3  1822022443543 


LIBRARY 

UNtVENSI.YOF 

CALIFORNIA 
DIEGO 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SAN  DIEGO 


_,     3  1822022443543 


GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN 
LETTERS 


GAIL  HAMILTON.  1866. 


GAIL  HAMILTON'S 
LIFE  IN  LETTERS 


EDITED    BY 

H.    AUGUSTA    DODGE 


VOLUME  I. 


BOSTON 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD 

MCMI 


F"     O; 

Dd 


Copyright,  1901, 
BY   H.  AUGUSTA    DODGE. 


All  rights  reserved. 


GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LITE   IN  LETTERS. 
VOL.  I. 


AMESBURY,  Second  day,  May,  1865. 

MY  DEAR  FD.  : 

I  was  a  little  blue  this  morning,  but  thy 
letter  was  just  the  tonic  I  needed.  If  any 
body  is  out  of  sorts  and  hypped  I  shall  pre 
scribe  for  him  a  course  of  thy  letters. 

And  now,  God  bless  thee ! 


To  MARY  ABBY    DODGE, 

Hamilton,  Mass. 


CONTENTS 

VOL.  I 


PAGE 

BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH     (Harriet  Prescott  Spofford)     .  ix 

I.     CHILDHOOD,  1833-1845 1 

II.     STUDENT  DAYS,  1845-1850 11 

III.  TEACHING,  1850-1856 31 

IV.  BEGINNINGS  OF   AUTHORSHIP,  1856-1858  115 
V.     FIRST  YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON,  1858-1859  173 

VI.     LITERARY  PROGRESS,  1859-1860    .     .     .  241 

VII.     BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON,  1860-1868    .  283 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 

BY  HARRIET  PRESCOTT  SPOFFORD 


MARY  A.  DODGE  came  of  a  line  of  pure  English 
ancestry  settled  in  one  county  of  this  country  for 
more  than  two  hundred  and  sixty  years,  and  the 
qualities  of  this  sturdy  stock  seemed  to  have  intensified 
and  come  to  blossom  in  her. 

She  was  a  ruddy,  curly  haired  little  child,  overflow 
ing  with  vitality,  singing,  dancing,  and  full  of  the  joy 
of  life,  and  of  an  astonishing  intellectual  energy.  At 
two  years  old  she  not  only  talked,  but  recited  verses 
from  memory,  and  she  knew  then  the  obligation  of  a 
promise ;  at  five  she  was  studying  an  advanced  geog 
raphy  ;  at  six,  one  of  her  brothers  writing  his  school 
composition,  she  also  was  writing  hers. 

The  life  of  a  country  child  is  one  calculated  to  give 
a   close    intimacy  with    nature ;    familiar   with    their 
moods  and  changes,  woods  and  fields  and  skies  and 
streams  were  her   friends,  and  all  her  life  long  they 
gave  her  the  joy  they  did  when,  a  little  child,  she  first 
looked  up  and  realized  the  infinity  of  the  depth  of  the 
blue  above  her.     The  life  fostered  also   a  strong  in 
dividuality,  a  fresh  and  fine  and  delightful  individual- 
Copyright,  1896,  by  Harper  &  Bros, 
ix 


x          GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

ity,  whose  original  force  was  felt  upon  whatever 
scene  she  entered. 

To  the  family  of  a  New  England  farmer  in  the  days 
of  her  childhood  the  Church  was  a  central  point,  the 
orthodox  Congregational  Church,  which  had  much  of 
the  authority  still  that  it  had  in  the  days  of  the  Puri 
tans.  The  subjects  of  conversation  were  its  articles 
of  faith,  and  the  Bible  was  its  literature.  There  was 
much  other  good  literature  in  her  father's  house, 
but  there  was  none  that  had  the  delight  for  her  of  this 
book,  with  its  high  inspiration  to  her  faith,  its  tender 
promises  to  her  heart,  and  its  poetical  splendor  to  her 
imagination  ;  its  language  was  her  language,  and  she 
could  neither  speak  nor  write  without  using  it ;  a  rare 
scholar  on  many  lines,  she  valued  her  biblical  scholar 
ship  more  than  any  other.  She  became  a  member  of 
the  church  at  an  early  age,  and  she  continued  in  its 
communion  till  her  death,  although  she  grew  largely 
liberal  in  her  interpretation  of  its  creed. 

She  was  educated  at  the  Ipswich  Female  Seminary, 
a  remarkable  school,  and  she  always  maintained  the 
affection  of  her  kinswoman,  its  great-hearted  princi 
pal,  Mrs.  Cowles.  Upon  her  graduation  she  became 
a  teacher,  at  first  at  Ipswich  and  afterwards  in 
Hartford,  and  a  very  wonderful  teacher,  awakening 
in  her  pupils  powers  they  did  not  dream  of  and  new 
conceptions  of  life  and  things,  and  striking  a  vital 
spark  from  the  dryest  facts  of  study.  Early  iii  her 
teachings  she  began  to  write  for  the  press,  short, 
crisp,  and  sparkling  articles,  under  a  pseudonym ; 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  xi 

part  of  this  name  was  that  of  her  native  town,  every 
sod  of  which  she  loved,  and  she  was  already  well 
known  by  it  when  she  was  teaching  in  the  family  of 
Dr.  Bailey,  the  editor  of  the  "  National  Era,"  a  publi 
cation  with  whose  purposes  she  was  in  full  sympathy. 
Miss  Dodge  discontinued  her  teaching  to  go  home 
and  remain  with  her  mother,  who  had  become  an 
invalid,  whom  she  all  but  worshipped,  and  whose  care 
she  shared  with  the  sister  who  was  her  other  self. 
She  was  now  an  active  contributor  to  the  "  Atlantic 
Monthly  "  and  other  periodicals,  and  she  collected  her 
essays  into  volumes,  which  had  wide  and  good  circu 
lation,  many  pages  of  which  were  of  unrivalled  beauty, 
as  others  were  of  frolicking  humor  and  sound  wisdom. 
Her  circumstances  were  easy,  and  she  found  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure  in  life  with  her  work,  her  friends, 
and  her  frequent  visits  in  the  houses  of  her  publishers, 
of  Hawthorne,  Mrs.  Stowe,  Mr.  Whittier,  Mr.  Storrs, 
and  others.  She  was  radiant  with  youth  and  health 
and  spirit  and  happiness,  helping  every  one,  making 
the  world  glad  about  her,  and  herself  the  pride  and 
joy  of  a  large  and  adoring  family  circle.  Wherever 
she  came  the  wind  and  the  sunshine  seemed  to  come 
in  with  her,  so  bright  and  breezy  was  her  presence, 
with  a  thought,  an  opinion,  an  epigram,  for  every 
thing,  and  sparkling  with  sweet  and  wholesome  wit, 
fearlessly  frank  and  tenderly  kind.  While  her 
stricture  was  unsparing,  her  praise  was  equally  so. 
Her  spirit  was  something  not  to  be  daunted,  and  she 
was  intrepid  in  maintaining  her  cause  and  lighting  for 


xii      GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

faith  or  friend.  But  her  magnanimity  was  as  great 
as  her  courage.  She  was  generosity  itself,  giving  her 
personal  care,  her  interest,  her  money  in  large  sums, 
herself. 

In  1870  she  began  to  spend  her  winters  in  Washing 
ton.  Warmly  interested  in  affairs,  acquainted  both 
with  the  intricacies  of  politics  and  the  heights  of 
statesmanship,  standing  in  awe  of  no  one,  with  the 
pleasantest  and  most  gracious  manner  on  occasion, 
her  humor,  her  keen  insight,  her  quick  aptitude,  her 
memory,  her  knowledge  of  human  nature,  her  glow 
and  enthusiasm  —  all  had  full  play  in  Mrs.  Elaine's 
drawing-room,  for  Mr.  Blaino  was  then  the  Speaker  of 
the  House,  and  then  and  later  his  home  was  the  centre 
where  not  only  the  party  chiefs,  but  every  one  of  in 
terest,  either  the  foreign  diplomat  or  the  transient 
traveller,  was  sure  to  be  found.  No  more  admired 
woman  of  society  ever  lived  in  Washington. 

She  dressed  her  part  well,  too,  in  simplest  garb 
upon  the  street  or  in  the  galleries  of  Congress ;  but 
she  was  resplendent  at  home  in  her  white  silks,  her 
gown  of  silver  brocade,  her  pale  peach  satin,  or  what 
ever  the  occasion  demanded.  In  summer  she  swung 
in  her  hammock  at  home  in  Hamilton,  and  wandered 
over  her  hills  as  if  she  had  never  known  any  other 
life.  Although  not  beautiful,  she  was  yet  attractive, 
of  about  the  medium  height,  and  with  a  good  figure, 
her  skin  very  fair  and  blooming,  her  mouth  sweet,  her 
teeth  fine,  her  forehead  white,  her  nose  well  cut,  her 
bright  brown  hair  curling  naturally.  She  had  great 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  xiii 

beauty  of  expression,  and  her  smile  was  enchanting. 
Delightful  as  her  conversation  was,  her  letters  were 
equally  so,  and  her  presence  in  any  house  filled  it  with 
the  "•  inextinguishable  laughter  of  the  gods."  She 
was  a  discriminating  critic  of  books  and  people  and 
measures ;  she  loved  nature,  poetry,  children,  and 
beauty  in  every  shape.  She  kindled  brightness  in 
others,  and  you  felt  in  her  society  that  you  were 
listening  to  the  most  brilliant  woman  of  her  genera 
tion. 

In  1887-8  she  visited  Europe.  She  had  already 
seen  a  good  deal  of  America  —  Canada,  California, 
the  South  and  West.  She  enjoyed  every  moment  of 
her  trip,  and  of  the  coaching  tour  through  England 
and  Scotland,  looking  at  everything  from  the  new 
point  of  view  of  her  own  entirely  original  personality. 
During  all  these  years  she  was  continually  publishing 
volumes  of  interest  and  keeping  a  large  correspond 
ence  with  men  and  women  of  note  both  here  and 
abroad.  Her  last  considerable  work  was  her  "  Wash 
ington  Bible  Class,"  a  book  burning  with  a  steady  flame 
of  genius  ;  and  she  died  just  as  she  had  completed  her 
book  upon  the  life  of  Mr.  Elaine,  which  she  alone 
could  write  as  the  subject  demanded. 

During  the  last  three  years  she  was  also  intensely 
absorbed  in  unavailing  efforts  for  the  liberation  of 
Mrs.  Maybrick  from  the  prison  to  which  she  was  sen 
tenced  for  the  commission  of  a  crime  for  which,  as 
Miss  Dodge  contended,  she  was  never  tried.  Inter 
ested  in  everything,  loved  as  few  people  have  been 


xiv      UAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

loved,  and  loving  in  return,  appreciating  the  feeling 
she  excited,  alive  to  her  very  fingers'  ends,  she  burned 
the  torch  of  her  life  without  .sparing.  She  had  gone 
to  Washington  with  the  last  chapter  of  her  work,  well 
and  happy,  rejoicing  in  the  beautiful  spring  of  that 
beautiful  town.  Without  any  warning  she  slipped 
one  morning  to  the  floor,  retained  her  intelligence 
vividly  for  some  days,  and  then  gently  sank  into  a 
deep  sleep,  from  which  she  woke  to  consciousness 
only  some  weeks  afterwards,  when  she  had  been  re 
moved  to  her  own  home. 

Here,  under  the  most  tireless  care,  she  regained  a 
great  measure  of  her  physical  and  all  of  her  intel 
lectual  strength.  She  occupied  herself  with  her  work, 
her  friends,  and  neighbors,  who  idolized  her,  her  char 
ities,  the  new  books  and  public  events,  and  in  writing, 
and  herself  publishing  a  volume  under  the  title  of 
"  X-Rays,"  of  interest  to  all  those  who  search  into  the 
mystery  of  a  future  life. 

On  the  morning  of  the  16th  of  this  month  (August), 
without  premonition,  she  fell  forward  unconscious, 
and  remained  so  for  a  day  and  night,  when  her  great 
starlike  spirit  passed. 


CHILDHOOD 

1833-1845 


CHILDHOOD 

1833-1845 

DURING  convalescence,  after  the  completion 
of  "  X-Rays,"  it  became  the  intention  of  "  Gail 
Hamilton"  to  prepare  her  autobiography,  and 
the  following  beginning  was  dictated  at  in 
tervals  in  1896  : 

I  died  on  the  10th  of  May,  1895. 1  It  might  be  sup 
posed  that  a  life  so  private  aud  uneventful  as  mine 
would  not  require  or  justify  a  biography.  But  when, 
after  seven  weeks'  divorce  of  body  and  soul,  a  par 
tial  reunion  was  effected,  I  found  the  newspapers 
festooned  with  obituary  biographical  sketches  wholly 
friendly  and  equally  inaccurate.  If  my  life  is  worth 
putting  wrong  it  is  worth  putting  right,  and  I  devote 
the  enforced  leisure  of  this  appendix  to  reminiscences. 

My  earliest  recollections  are  of  sitting  on  a  braided 
mat  before  the  hearth  on  which  a  bright  wood  fire 
was  blazing  and  warming  a  porringer  of  milk.  My 
mother  sat  near  me  with  feet  outstretched,  on  which  I 
would  at  pleasure  take  a  delightful  ride.  The  close  of 
the  programme  was  invariably  to  throw  myself  across 
my  father's  knee,  and  order  him  "to  rub  my  back." 
I  was  a  docile  child  in  general,  but  in  this  one  thing 

1   See  Sketch  by  Harriet  Prescott  Spofford  at  beginning  of  Volume  I. 
3 


4         GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

I  was  sovereign.  I  would  not  go  to  bed  until  his 
hand  —  more  rough  and  hard  than  any  other  —  had 
soothed  my  little  back  into  tranquillity.  My  sister 
always  went  with  me,  so  that  I  had  no  sense  of  ban 
ishment  or  solitude,  and  I  have  always  a  lurking  pity 
for  children  who  must  go  to  bed  alone.  I  was  a  little 
beast,  enfolding  but  an  invisible  germ  of  humanity. 
I  did  not  love  father  or  mother,  only  the  comfort  and 
warmth  which  they  administered.  I  had  an  attach 
ment  to  them  as  the  source  and  background  of  the 
fire  and  the  bright  porringer. 

There  was  no  family  government.  The  only  pun 
ishment  I  remember  in  a  family  of  six  children  was 
when  I  for  three  Sundays  in  succession  endured  some 
light  affliction  for  behaving  ill  in  church.  But  there 
was  no  logical  connection  between  the  penalty  and  the 
sin.  Our  pew  was  in  the  gallery  and  was  large  and 
nearly  square,  —  red  cushioned  and  curtained,  —  a 
secluded  and  quiet  room  where  play  could  be  carried 
on  comfortably  without  disturbing  any  one.  The 
sound  of  my  little  finger-nails  scratching  down  the 
long  breadths  of  my  mother's  black  silk  gown  amused 
me  more  than  the  preacher's  voice.  The  rattle  of 
the  brass  rings  on  the  iron  rods  as  I  drew  the  curtains 
back  and  forth  was  my  song  of  the  sanctuary,  but 
when  I  sat  down  upon  the  floor  of  the  pew  and  began 
to  take  off  my  shoes  and  stockings,  my  mother  hailed  it 
as  the  dawn  of  the  reformation,  but  its  real  siinrisew&s 
many  years  after,  upon  the  occasion  of  a  new  pelisse 
handed  down  from  my  sister,  with  a  "  bodice  waist" 
opening  in  front.  So  important  an  advance  in  dress 
demanded  a  corresponding  dignity  of  demeanor.  I 
was  more  than  equal  to  the  occasion.  I  not  only  sat 
quietly  through  the  service,  but  at  its  close  turned  to 


CHILDHOOD  5 

my  sister  and  asked,  "  Don't  you  think  we  have  had 
a  short  sermon  ?  "  The  reader  will  readily  perceive 
that  T  had  jumped  at  one  bound  from  childhood  to 
criticism.  I  was  not  only  able  to  sit  still  through  the 
sermon,  but  I  disdained  to  find  any  weariness  in  the 
effort,  and  so  called  the  sermon  short.  My  sister 
saw  through  the  little  subterfuge  and  did  not  hesitate 
to  communicate  the  fact  to  me.  Her  only  answer 
was  to  wrinkle  up  her  nose  in  silent  contempt,  and 
I  knew  that  my  little  ruse  had  failed.  Perhaps  I  then 
first  knew  it  was  a  ruse. 

Parents  and  children  formed  one  community,  ate 
at  the  same  table,  of  the  same  food  — no  hot  or  rich 
or  unwholesome  food  was  denied  us  because  we  were 
children.  It  was  an  event  in  natural  history  when  I 
heard  that  the  minister's  daughter  was  not  allowed  to 
eat  mince  pie.  I  ate  mince  pie  whenever  it  was  on 
the  table. 

A  vase  which  was  in  the  spare  chamber,  I  had  taken 
for  my  own  pleasure  and,  instead  of  replacing  it,  left 
it  on  the  floor  where  I  was  playing  and  where  my 
mother  found  it,  and  asked  me  if  I  had  meddled  with 
it.  It  was  such  a  vase  as  I  suppose  might  have  been 
bought  at  the  grocer's  for  fifty  cents  per  pair,  and  it 
was  unharmed,  but  I  had  a  blind  perception  that  some 
how  the  universal  order  had  been  disturbed,  and  the 
quickest  way  to  get  into  it  seemed  to  be  to  deny  that 
I  ever  had  been  out.  I  promptly  answered  "  No." 
My  mother  must  have  known  I  was  telling  what  is 
called  a  lie,  but  she  did  not  embarrass  me  with  un 
pleasant  remarks,  or  pointed  questions.  I  fought 
rather  shy  of  her,  avoiding  tete-a-tete  for  an  hour  or 
two,  but  coming  to  no  harm  the  entente  cordiale  was 
soon  restored  and  we  remained  the  best  of  friends. 


8         GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IX  LETTERS 

awe  I  entered  the  school-room.  The  seats  were  filled 
with  children  of  various  ages.  One  seat  was  occupied 
by  persons  whom  I  thought  men,  though  they  were 
mere  striplings  of  sixteen  or  eighteen.  My  heart  sunk 
within  me  as  I  gazed  around,  for  I  felt  that  I  was  less 
than  the  least.  However,  it  was  not  many  days  be 
fore  I  began  to  feel  more  at  home.  The  teacher  was  a 
kind,  affectionate  lady,  very  fond  of  children,  and  I 
soon  loved  her. 

At  the  breakfast  table  when  we  children  were 
discussing  the  advent  of  a  new  teacher  and  the 
Ions;  list  of  names  —  six —  with  which  we  should 

o 

burden  his  memory,  the  youngest  spoke  up  :  "  I 
shall  say  rny  name  is  Mary  Abby  Dodge.  I  go 
by  the  name  of  Abby  —  my  father  frequently 
calls  me  Polly,"  and  the  result  proved  her  to 
be  as  good  as  her  word. 

Her  first  winter  term  developed  great  popu 
larity  with  teacher,  pupils,  and  visitors.  One 
of  the  latter  became  so  enamored  by  the  profi 
ciency  of  the  bright  little  girl  that  he  left  a  sum  of 
money  with  the  teacher  to  be  privately  presented 
her.  Frequently  during  intermissions  the  older 
pupils,  "  the  striplings  of  sixteen  or  eighteen," 
with  whom  she  was  a  favorite,  would  persuade 
her  to  repeat  lessons  from  the  Reader,  and  she 
would  recite  page  after  page  of  prose,  naturally 
and  fluently,  which  attracted  the  lesser  lights, 
until  the  group  became  a  crowd  of  eager  listen 
ers,  standing  upon  the  seats  and  benches  to  see 
as  well  as  hear  the  young  orator.  She  was 


CHILDHOOD  9 

a  pet  of  the  school,  as  the  many  toys,  medals, 
and  jack-knife  curiosities  in  her  possession  testi 
fied,  and  even  to  caring  for  her  personal  wants 
the  strong  boy  would  take  her  hand  to  lead,  - 
and  his  handkerchief  to  smooth  her  hair  when 
the  wind  blew  it  awry. 

At  two  years  of  age  she  could  repeat  the 
whole  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  before  her 
second  birthday  she  promised  to  abandon  a  baby 
habit  when  "  two  yea'  old,"  and  was  never 
known,  consciously,  to  "suck  her  fingers," 
after  that  date.  At  five  she  was  studying  Olney's 
Geography,  and  before  her  seventh  year,  at  a 
school  exhibition  for  "  speaking  pieces,"  when 
the  school-room  was  festooned  with  evergreen, 
decorated  with  pine  boughs,  and  brilliantly 
lighted,  the  youngest  of  the  declaimers  not  only 
"  spoke  in  public  on  the  stage,"  under  an  arch 
of  green,  her  one  "piece  "  learned  for  the  occa 
sion,  but  aided  and  abetted  by  a  fun-loving  strip 
ling,  and  encouraged  by  the  teacher  and  an  atten 
tive  audience,  whose  curiosity  she  had  aroused, 
she  was  induced  to  go  out  and  repeat  any  chance 
piece  she  had  ever  learned,  until  nineteen  selec 
tions  had  been  recited,  when  her  mother  forbade 
her  again  leaving  her  seat,  —  the  quiet  thus  en 
forced,  the  little  head  soon  rested  on  the  desk 
fast  asleep ! 

When  a  brother,  seven  years  her  senior,  was 
required  to  write  a  composition,  she  asked  per 
mission  for  the  same  privilege  (?)  and  wrote, 


8         GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IX  LETTERS 

awe  I  entered  the  school-room.  The  seats  were  filled 
with  children  of  various  ages.  One  seat  was  occupied 
by  persons  whom  I  thought  men,  though  they  were 
mere  striplings  of  sixteen  or  eighteen.  My  heart  sunk 
within  me  as  I  gazed  around,  for  I  felt  that  I  was  less 
than  the  least.  However,  it  was  not  many  days  be 
fore  I  began  to  feel  more  at  home.  The  teacher  was  a 
kind,  affectionate  lady,  very  fond  of  children,  and  I 
soon  loved  her. 

At  the  breakfast  table  \vhcn  we  children  were 
discussing  the  advent  of  a  new  teacher  and  the 
long  list  of  names  —  six  —  with  which  we  should 
burden  his  memory,  the  youngest  spoke  up  :  "  / 
shall  s&y  my  name  is  Mary  Abby  Dodge.  I  go 
by  the  name  of  Abby  —  my  father  frequently 
calls  me  Polly,"  and  the  result  proved  her  to 
be  as  good  as  her  word. 

Her  first  winter  term  developed  great  popu 
larity  with  teacher,  pupils,  and  visitors.  One 
of  the  latter  became  so  enamored  by  the  profi 
ciency  of  the  bright  little  girl  that  he  left  a  sum  of 
money  with  the  teacher  to  be  privately  presented 
her.  Frequently  during  intermissions  the  older 
pupils,  "  the  striplings  of  sixteen  or  eighteen," 
with  whom  she  was  a  favorite,  would  persuade 
her  to  repeat  lessons  from  the  Reader,  and  she 
would  recite  page  after  page  of  prose,  naturally 
and  fluently,  which  attracted  the  lesser  lights, 
until  the  group  became  a  crowd  of  eager  listen 
ers,  standing  upon  the  seats  and  benches  to  see 
as  well  as  hear  the  young  orator.  She  was 


CHILDHOOD  9 

a  pet  of  the  school,  as  the  many  toys,  medals, 
and  jack-knife  curiosities  in  her  possession  testi 
fied,  and  even  to  caring  for  her  personal  wants 
the  strong  boy  would  take  her  hand  to  lead,  - 
and  his  handkerchief  to  smooth  her  hair  when 
the  wind  blew  it  awry. 

At  two  years  of  age  she  could  repeat  the 
whole  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  before  her 
second  birthday  she  promised  to  abandon  a  baby 
habit  when  "two  yea'  old,"  and  was  never 
known,  consciously,  to  "  suck  her  fingers," 
after  that  date.  At  five  she  was  studying  Olney's 
Geography,  and  before  her  seventh  year,  at  a 
school  exhibition  for  "  speaking  pieces,"  when 
the  school-room  was  festooned  with  evergreen, 
decorated  with  pine  boughs,  and  brilliantly 
lighted,  the  youngest  of  the  declaimers  not  only 
"  spoke  in  public  on  the  stage,"  under  an  arch 
of  green,  her  one  "piece  "  learned  for  the  occa 
sion,  but  aided  and  abetted  by  a  fun-loving  strip 
ling,  and  encouraged  by  the  teacher  and  an  atten 
tive  audience,  whose  curiosity  she  had  aroused, 
she  was  induced  to  go  out  and  repeat  any  chance 
piece  she  had  ever  learned,  until  nineteen  selec 
tions  had  been  recited,  when  her  mother  forbade 
her  again  leaving  her  seat,  —  the  quiet  thus  en 
forced,  the  little  head  soon  rested  on  the  desk 
fast  asleep ! 

"\Vhen  a  brother,  seven  years  her  senior,  was 
required  to  write  a  composition,  she  asked  per 
mission  for  the  same  privilege  (?)  and  wrote, 


10       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

"The  Character  of  a  Good  Scholar."  Pretty 
little  rhymes  about  "The  Rose,"  at  nine;  a 
metrical  conversation  between  "  Industry  and 
Idleness,"  signed  "  Mary  A.  Dodge's  Scribbles," 
at  ten ;  ' '  Lines  supposed  to  be  written  by  a 
Youth  far  away  from  the  Home  of  his  Child 
hood,"  five  stanzas  of  four  lines  each,  at  eleven ; 
and  ten  verses  on  "  Independence,"  when  twelve 
years  old,  are  remarkable  productions  among 
many  very  clever  examples  of  her  ready  pen  or 
pencil. 

When  twelve  years  old  she  was  sent  to  a 
school  in  Cambridge,  to  be  under  the  instruction 
of  Dr.  Smith,  that  prince  of  teachers,  born,  not 
manufactured  at  Normal  School,  —  and  there 
}\QY  first  letter  was  written  in  September,  1845. 


II 

STUDENT   DAYS 

1845-1850 


11 


n 

STUDENT  DAYS 

1845-1850 

MY  DEAR  SISTER:  Here  I  am  in  Cambridgeport. 
I  had  a  delightful  ride  in  the  cars  this  forenoon, 
though  about  the  last  part  of  it  I  had  somewhat  of  a 
headache,  owing  to  the  continued  noise.  We  walked 
directly  from  the  cars  to  the  ferryboat.  I  should  not 
think  it  was  much  of  a  boat,  for  it  appeared  to  be  very 
large  inside  like  a  very  large  depot,  and  did  not  seem 
to  be  moving.  When  we  came  out  our  ears  were  as 
sailed  by  ' '  Will  you  have  a  cab  ?  "  We  got  into  one 
all  lined  with  red  velvet,  had  a  ride  to  —  somewhere, 
I  don't  know  where  —  and  then  we  got  into  an  omnibus 
and  kept  there  until  we  arrived  at  Mrs.  P's.  But  oh, 
Boston,  Boston,  such  a  sight  of  people  and  houses  I 
never  saw !  I  intend  to  go  to  a  party  this  afternoon 
and  A.  is  almost  ready,  so  I  must  stop  for  the  present. 

Your  sister  ABBY. 

Monday  noon.  Oh  dear,  the  show  is  over.  I  have 
been  to  school  this  forenoon,  and  got  along  very 
well.  They  do  not  use  any  of  the  books  I  have 
brought  excepting  the  Testament.  Mother's  prophecy 
has  not  yet  come  to  pass.  I  have  not  been  homesick. 
I  occupy  a  room  in  the  attic.  The  walls  are  all 
whitewashed  and  the  floor  painted  blue  and  it  gives  it 
an  air  of  neatness  and  comfort.  I  must  now  stop 

13 


14       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

again,  and  go  to  knitting,  else  I  shall  not  get  my  stock 
ing  done  this  sometime.  I  have  as  many  peaches  and 
grapes  as  I  wish.  I  have  plenty  of  books  too.  Good 
bye.  —  It  is  Monday  night.  This  afternoon  as  I  was 
in  the  school  the  girl  who  sat  near  me  mentioned  to 
Dr.  S.  that  I  lived  in  another  district  and  ought  not  to 
come  there  or  something  to  that  effect.  And  said  he, 
"  If  she  lived  in  Halifax  I  should  let  her  come.  She 
is  one  of  my  old  scholars  and  knows  me  well."  ' '  Does 
she?"  said  the  girl  in  a  very  humble  tone.  "Yes, 
she  does,  and  you'll  find  it  out  one  of  these  days." 
She  was  silent,  but  afterwards  asked  me  several  ques 
tions  about  it  and  seemed  quite  surprised  to  think 
/had  been  to  school  to  him.  I  have  been  as  it  were 
a  dweller  alone  since  eight  o'clock  this  morning  till 

0  o 

this  afternoon  at  recess,  when  two  girls  very  kindly 
invited  me  to  walk  with  them  which  invitation  I  gladly 
accepted  and  found  them  very  pleasant  and  agreeable. 
Good  night. 

Tuesday  afternoon  and  I  have  felt  very  badly 
nearly  all  day;  I  suppose  I  am  homesick.  I  feel 
very  cross  about  it,  for  I  like  the  place,  I  like  my 
home,  I  like  the  teacher  and  some  of  the  scholars, 
but  I  can't  help  it.  I  won't  come  home  yet  at  any 
rate.  I  suppose  that  you  will  laugh,  but  I  don't  care. 
I  guess  you  know  from  sad  experience  how  I  feel, 
hoping  to  feel  better  tomorrow  I  will  leave  this  till 
then. 

Wednesday.     I  do  not  feel  much  better  to-day. 

Friday.  There  is  a  girl  that  goes  to  my  school 
who  says  she  has  a  grandfather  and  uncle  in  Hamilton. 

Monday.  It  seems  to  me  the  past  week  has 
been  very  long,  though  I  have  in  general  passed  it 
pleasantly.  Saturday  we  did  not  proceed  with  the 


STUDENT  DAYS  15 

exercises  of  the  school  as  usual,  but  the  principal 
thing  we  did  was  to  read  and  spell.  After  they  had 
spelt  in  classes,  we  "  spelt  down  "  as  the  term  is  ;  you 
know  what  I  mean,  I  presume.  The  first  time  a  little 
girl  stood  up  the  longest  whose  name  I  do  not  know. 
The  spelling  book  they  use* I  never  saw,  I  believe,  be 
fore  I  came  here,  and  of  course  the  chances  were  very 
unequal.  I  stood  up  longer  than  I  expected,  however. 
After  they  were  all  down,  the  Dr.  said  we  might  try 
it  again  ;  we  did  and  a  little  girl  whose  name  I  believe 
is  Mary  A.  Dodge  stood  up  the  longest.  She  was 
somewhat  of  a  stranger  in  the  school,  and  I  think  it 
was  a  pretty  good  "spoke  in  her  wheel,"  as  mother 
might  say.  I  want  you  to  look  round  and  find  J.  R.'s 
arithmetic,  and  a  book  entitled  "  Charlotte  Temple," 
and  carry  them  down  to  Mrs.  Rust's  with  my  thanks, 
tell  them  I  had  forgotten  them.  I  suppose  you  think 
I  have  not  improved  much  in  writing  by  being  at  a 
boarding  school.  Mother  told  me  to  write  plain,  but 
I  fear  I  h:ivc  not.  It  is  not  a  fortnight  since  I  came, 
but  as  I  can  finish  this  letter  now  I  think  I  will  send 
it.  Love  to  all  inquiring  friends  and  sister. 
Your  affectionate  sister, 

ABBY  D. 

DESCRIPTION    OF    A    CHURCH. 

[Found  in  her  own  childish  handwriting.] 

The  church  in  which  I  attend  meeting  is  situated 
in  Austin  street,  facing  the  north.  It  is  painted 
white,  and  has  a  very  tall  steeple  which  is  ornamented 
with  carved  work.  There  are  two  stories  of  windows 
in  the  belfry,  and  the  lower  story  has  blinds.  When 
you  enter  the  door  of  the  church,  you  find  yourself  in 
a  large  entry  extending  along  the  whole  length  of  the 


16       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

house.  The  body  of  the  church  contains  about  sixty 
pews,  in  the  form  of  slips,  which  will  comfortably 
seat  six  grown  persons.  The  greater  part  of  the 
pews  face  the  front  of  the  pulpit,  a  few  called  the 
wing  pews  face  the  sides.  There  are  no  seats  in 
the  gallery  excepting  thos^  of  the  singers,  and  there 
is  a  large  organ  there.  The  floor  of  the  aisles  is 
carpeted,  as  are  also  some  of  the  pews.  The  pulpit 
is  lined  with  red  velvet.  As  I  have  attended  meeting 
here  but  a  few  Sabbaths,  this  description  is  now  as 
minute  as  I  am  able  to  give. 

MARY  A.  DODGE. 

The  pastor  was  Rev.  J.  C.  Lovejoy,  brother 
of  the  Alton  martyr,  and  during  her  attendance 
on  his  ministrations  he  gave  her  the  "Life  of 
Elijah  P.  Lovejoy"  as  a  prize  for  some  Sunday 
School  attainment. 

Many  years  later,  Owen  Lovejoy,  M.C.,  be 
came  a  much  valued  acquaintance  and  friend, 
and  their  exchange  of  literary  products  was 
highly  instructive  and  entertaining. 

HAMILTON,  May,  1846. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER  :  There  is  a  great  difference  in  the 
weather  now  and  when  you  went  away.  Then  the 
sun  was  sending  his  beams  upon  our  heads,  now  his 
face  is  veiled  in  clouds  and  prognosticates  that  it 
will  "  wain  pitsfoks  !"  Does  that  sound  natural? 

I  had  a  good  time  in  Danvers,  was  not  homesick  — 
can  you  say  the  same  of  Ipswich?  We  have  one 
gosling,  and  I  don't  know  how  many  chickens.  There 
is  no  news  stirring.  I've  drained  mv  brain  and  can't 


STUDENT  DAYS  17 

get  much  more  out.  Be  a  good  girl.  Mother  says, 
';  Why  don't  you  enlarge  upon  your  visit  to  Dan- 
vers?  tell  her  where  you  went."  So  I  will  to  please 
her.  I  went  to  Harmony  Grove,  went  to  Salem, 

went  to ,  went  to  F.  D's,  went  to  B's,  went  to  Mr. 

C's,  went  to  Mr.  F's,  went  to  Miss  M's,  went  to  Mrs. 
A.  B's,  went  to  Mrs.  G's,  went  to  Mrs.  DeM's  — 
they  are  well ;  went  to  "Aunt  Very's  "  to  get  some 
yeast,  went  to  Mrs.  B's  to  get  some  yeast,  went  to 
Mrs.  R's,  went  to  Dr.  C's,  went  to  Mr.  L's  ;  now  you 
know  where  I  went.  Anything  else,  mother?  "  No," 
mother  says,  so  I'll  stop.  Good  Bye. 
From  I, 

M.  A.  D.  to  H.  A.  D. 

IPSWICH,  June  18,  1847. 

O  DEAR  MOTHER  !  Upham,  Algebra,  and  French, 
French,  Algebra,  and  Upham.  What  shall  I  do  ? 
Shall  I  study  French  or  not  ?  I  finished  Botany  to 
day,  and  Mr.  Cowles  thinks  I  ought  to  go  right  into 
French  immediately.  Mrs.  Cowles  says  that  I  shall 
get  so  that  by  next  winter  I  can  amuse  myself  at 
home  by  reading  French,  and  Mr.  Cowles  will  lend 
me  some  books.  Do  come  and  see  me  and  talk  to 
Mrs.  Cowles  about  it,  for  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what 
to  do.  So  much  for  Frenchification.  They  have  put 
me  into  Mr.  Cowles'  reading  class,  with  the  big  girls. 
One  of  the  girls  in  the  class  I  have  just  left  was 
speaking  something  about  it,  and  Mrs.  Cowles  said 
that  when  she  was  as  good  a  reader  as  I  was,  she 
should  go  into  it  too.  Miss  Dunning  says  I  shall 
make  a  beautiful  writer.  She  says  she  don't  need  to 
look  at  my  writing,  it  always  looks  well.  And  she 
says  —  Oh  !  I  won't  say  any  more  ;  it  makes  me  feel 


18       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

silly.  I  shall  want  ray  white  dress  pretty  soon,  I  sup 
pose.  Do  come  and  see  me  as  soon  as  you  can  and 
bring  it,  won't  you  ? 

Here  comes  Fanny  McKeen  with,  "  How  do  you 
spell  different?"  Adeline  says,  "  Ask  the  poetess." 
She  says  to  me,  "Tell  your  mother  you  go  by  the 
name  of  poetess  and  are  rightly  named."  They  say 
so  for  a  silly  reason  indeed.  Do  come  and  see  me  as 
soon  as  you  can.  Where  is  Uncle  George  ?  I  want 
to  see  him  before  he  goes  away.  I  wonder  what  he 
thinks  of  French?  You  know  I  told  you  I  had  to 
read  a  composition  the  other  day.  Well,  I  had  to 
read  another,  and  Mr.  Cowles  said  he  had  no  idea 
that  I  could  make  that  house  ring  as  I  did.  There  ! 
I  have  filled  this  whole  letter  with  my  nonsense.  Do 
come  to  see  me  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  Uncle  George. 
When  you  come  bring  me  anything  yon  think  I  should 
like.  I  want  you  to  come  very  much,  and  very  soon. 

Yours,  etc., 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

AUGUST  4,  1847. 

My  vacation  commenced  two  weeks  ago.  Eliza 
and  Margaret,  two  of  our  school-girls,  spent  the  vaca 
tion  with  me.  We  ate  up  nearly  all  the  currants  and 
raspberries,  but  probably  you  will  find  some  black 
berries  when  you  go  home.  They  began  to  ripen 
before  I  came  awa}r.  I  saw  Lydia,  your  "  friend 
Lydia,"  the  night  before  I  came  here.  She  looked 
more  charming  than  ever.  However,  I  hope  you  will 
not  let  personal  beauty  outweigh  mental  accomplish 
ments  in  your  selection  of  a  wife.  I  hope  when  you 
come  home  you  will  by  no  means  forget  my  French 
Bible.  I  am  studying  Latin,  German,  French,  Rhe- 


STUDENT   DAYS  19 

toric,  and  shall  probably  take  Butler's  Analogy. 
When  you  come  home  I  wish  you  would  bring  Cora- 
stock's  Natural  Philosophy  and  Smellie's  Philosophy 
of  Natural  History,  if  you  have  them. 

I  came  from  Ipswich  on  Friday  and  found  mother 
at  home.  Father  and  Augusta  started  for  Salem, 
N.H.,  last  Thursday  morning.  They  arrived  about 
sunset  the  same  day,  had  a  very  pleasant  visit,  and 
reached  home  about  nine  o'clock  last  night. 

By  and  with  the  advice  and  consent  of  the  "  Family 
Council "  convened  Thursday,  this  fourth  day  of 
November,  1847,  I  do  hereby  snugly  ensconce  myself 
in  a  large  armchair  with  my  writing-desk  before  me 
with  the  laudable  design  of  penning  a  few  lines  to  a 
far  distant,  but  well  remembered  (must  I  say  too  well 
remembered?)  brother.  Yes,  would  that  I  could  for 
get  my  last  interview  with  you  to  efface  from  my 
mind  the  impression  that  your  appearance  made  upon 
it.  But  it  is  impossible.  The  short  blue  frock, 
the  suspeuderless  pantaloons,  the  green  straw  hat 
knocked  into  an  undefinable  form,  all  combined,  pre 
sented  an  aspect  which  will  never  be  forgotten  by  me. 
Obstinate  boy  !  You  do  not  deserve  that  I  should 
ever  write  you  another  letter,  but  if  we  were  all 
treated  according  to  our  deserts  I  ween  there  would 
be  little  happiness  in  the  world  ;  therefore  hoping  that 
you  will  take  a  realizing  sense  of  the  importance  of 
the  favor  I  am  conferring,  and  also  of  your  own 
unworthiuess,  I  will  conclude  this  long  preamble. 

Augusta  and  myself  had  the  happiness  of  visiting 
the  city  of  Boston  last  Saturday,  met  Felt  at  the  depot, 
and  Maria  at  the  store,  who  had  come  to  Boston  in  a 
private  carriage  with  her  father  and  mother.  We 
visited  the  State  House,  and  from  thence  we  went  to 


20       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

see  Banvard's  Panorama  of  the  Mississippi  River.  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  describe  it,  I'll  just  say  that  it 
looks  "  as  large  as  life  and  twice  as  natural." 

Mother  tells  me  that  somebody  took  your  umbrella 
when  you  were  last  at  home,  and  so  you  are  minus 
an  umbrella,  which  is  nowadays  considered  common 
stock  among  the  whole  family  of  Grandpa  Adam. 
Father  wants  me  to  tell  you  that  the  guineas  have 
grown  speckled,  and  that  the  corn  is  all  cut,  and 
all  but  one  load  husked.  We  attended  the  Ordina 
tion  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Taylor  in  Wenham  a  few  days 
ago.  The  meeting  was  without  exception  the  most 
interesting  one  I  ever  attended.  What  greatly  con 
tributed  to  its  interest  was  the  fact  that  he  is  the 
youngest  of  four  brothers,  all  of  whom  are  ministers 
and  assisted  in  the  exercises. 

HAMILTON,  January  4,  1848. 

[Not  yet  15.] 

MR.  JAMES  AI.VIN  DODGE  :  Mont  worthy  sire :  As 
there  seems  to  be  one  goal  which  you  are  ever  striv 
ing  to  reach ;  one  focus,  if  I  may  so  say,  to  which 
all  your  mental  and  physical  powers  are  attracted; 
one  jewel  at  the  possession  of  which  you  are  ever 
aiming,  allow  me  as  a  sister,  to  lend  you  my  feeble 
efforts  to  the  possession  thereof.  Do  you  not  know 
what  that  jewel  is  ?  Go  then,  read  what  the  preacher 
hath  written — "  Who  shall  find  a  virtuous  woman, 
for  her  price  is  far  above  rubies?"  Few,  alas!  how 
few,  truly  appreciate  the  worth  of  woman,  but  of  that 
few,  I  flatter  myself  that  my  brother  is  one.  From 
what  you  have  written,  and  what  you  have  said,  I  do 
believe  that  you  think  a  good  wife  is  one  of  the  great 
est  blessings  that  can  fall  to  the  lot  of  erring  man, 


STUDENT   DAYS  21 

and  I  scruple  not  to  say  that  you  are  right.  You 
have  arrived  at  that  age  when  love  is  no  longer  a  thing 
to  be  jested  and  laughed  at ;  when  the  hallowed  name 
of  "wife"  is  no  longer  to  be  considered  as  faintly 
glimmering  in  the  dim  future ;  it  is  now  a  matter  of 
solemn  and  serious  consideration  of  mature  and 
deliberate  reasoning,  for  truly  they  are  both  words  of 
weighty  import.  How  many  have  with  heedless  un 
concern  launched  out  upon  the  untried  sea  of  matri 
mony,  and  have  lived  to  see  their  fondest  hopes 
blighted,  all  hopes  of  happiness  on  earth  destroyed, 
and  themselves  the  mere  wrecks  of  what  they  once 
were  !  And  how  do  I  know  that  my  brother  shall 
escape  the  rock  upon  which  so  many  have  been 
wrecked  ?  He  will  not,  unless  by  a  careful  use  of  the 
means  placed  within  his  power,  he  secure  to  himself 
a  wife,  not  merely  for  the  beauty  of  her  countenance, 
or  the  grace  of  her  movements,  for  they  are  transient 
and  fading,  but  for  solid  virtue,  the  beauty  of  the 
soul,  and  education  and  accomplishments,  the  graces 
of  the  mind.  Other  beauties  decay,  but  age  tarnishes 
not  the  lustre  of  the  soul.  Time  with  his  inevitable 
stroke  cannot  divest  her  of  the  beauties  of  her  mind. 
When  the  rose  on  her  cheek  has  faded,  and  the  light 
of  her  eyes  is  dimmed,  they  will  remain  immortal, 
unchangeable.  Select  not  then,  for  your  wife,  one 
who  by  her  frivolous  conduct,  if  not  by  her  words, 
says,  "  I'd  be  a  butterfly  born  in  a  bower."  I  have 
no  objection  to  a  pretty  face,  if  behind  that  pretty 
face  there  is  stored  a  competent  share  of  knowledge. 
But  granting  that  your  wife  be  a  perfect  gem,  learned, 
beautiful,  virtuous,  still  you  may  be  unhappy.  By 
indulging  a  cynical,  fault-finding,  peevish  disposition, 
you  may  embitter  a  whole  life,  and  even  cast  an 


22       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

odium  on  that  holy  institution,  founded  in  the  earliest 
ages  of  the  world.  It  is  not  always,  it  is  not  often, 
that  the  disturbances  of  domestic  life  are  owing  to 

D 

women. 

A  fruitful  source  of  domestic  discord  is  the  omission 
of  many  little  endearments  after  marriage,  which 
before  seemed  to  spring  up  almost  spontaneously. 
How  often  is  it  that  the  lady  who  is  in  the  lover's 
eyes  a  perfect  paragon  of  beauty  and  excellence,  is  in 
the  husband's  eyes  the  least  of  all.  She  is  the  last 
he  thinks  of  pleasing.  Let  it  not  be  so  with  you.  I 
was  reading  but  yesterday  some  "advice  to  a  married 
couple,"  in  which  the  writer  spoke  of  woman's  sphere 
as  being  one  of  perfect  calmness  and  tranquillity. 
But  he  showed  his  utter  ignorance  of  woman's  duties. 
A  woman  has  her  peculiar  trials  and  troubles,  and 
though  they  may  not  be  so  important  as  those  of  men, 
yet  they  are  quite  as  trying  to  the  temper  and  should 
not  be  treated  with  disdain.  You  may  give  your  wife 
an  elegant  house  and  luxurious  appr.rel,  and  every 
thing  which  money  can  procure,  and  yet  if  you  with 
hold  from  her  true  warm-hearted  sympathy,  they  will 
all  be  of  little  worth.  Let  your  wife  hold  as  high 
and,  if  possible,  a  higher  rank  in  your  estimation 
after  marriage  as  before.  Let  her  happiness  be  the 
ultimate  end  of  your  labour  and  your  pains.  Let 
her  be  sure  of  holding  the  first  place  in  your  heart, 
and,  I  doubt  not,  you  will  meet  with  a  corresponding 
return  of  affection,  and  as  "  home  is  when1  the  heart 
is,"  your  house  will  be  your  home,  and  when  weary 
of  the  troubles  and  turmoils  of  the  day,  you  will 
return  to  your  home,  and  there  in  the  bosom  of  your 
family,  with  a  wife  who  will  be  the  delight  of  your 
eyes,  though  the  clouds  of  adversity  should  lower 


STUDENT   DAYS  23 

around,  you  will  find  a  safe  refuge  from  "  the  peltings 
of  the  pitiless  storm."  And  now,  hoping  that  you 
may  not  be  wearied  with  this  long  letter,  and  that  you 
may  find  a  wife  worthy  of  you,  and  wishing  you  a 
thrice  happy  New  Year,  I  tako  my  leave  as  ever, 

Yours  affectionately, 

ABBY. 

HAMILTON,  January  4,   1848. 

I  believe  you  would  have  laughed  if  you  had  been 
at  home  when  Master  L —  was  here.  I  was  writing 
to  Alvin  when  he  came.  He  commenced  a  long  lec 
ture  upon  the  beauties  of  penmanship,  its  importance, 
etc.  Then  he  asked  if  I  had  a  Milton's  "Paradise 
Lost  "  and  wished  me  to  get  it ;  then  he  gave  me  a 
word  to  parse  to  see  if  I  parsed  it  as  he  did.  We 
agreed  about  it  and  I  suppose  that  made  his  heart 
glad.  Then  he  commenced  a  discourse  upon  Algebra, 
—  mentioned  his  own  algebraical  knowledge, —  fath 
omed  my  mathematical  acquisition,  then  branched  off 
in  the  line  of  school-teaching,  spoke  of  the  importance 
of  correct  classification  of  schools,  and  last,  but  not 
least,  cited  his  own  superhuman  endeavors  and  suc 
cess  in  the  art,  recounted  the  extraordinary  feats  he 
had  performed,  and,  dear  me,  I  can't  go  through  the 
inventory,  it  is  too  tiresome.  Master  L.  is  a  man  of 
uncommon  and  extensive  erudition,  but  he  is  a  very 
small  part  of  the  material  universe.  He  is  a  very 
little  being  of  a  very  little  world  which  is  as  it  were 
but  a  speck  of  Creation.  "These  little  things  are 
great  to  little  man." 

AVe  had  little  time  to  study  last  week,  as  we  do  not 
go  to  school,  but  study  our  six  hours  at  home,  that  is, 
when  we  do  not  have  company. 


24       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Poor  Pinter  met  with  a  sad  accident  to-day.  The 
cars  broke  his  leg.  I  don't  know  how  it  was  done, 
but  father  thinks  the  snow-plough  did  it.  I  get  along 
finely  in  my  studies,  now  that  I  don't  have  you  to 
hinder  me.  I  am  almost  through  the  Latin  Lessons 
and  Greek  History.  For  Sabbath-School  lesson  to 
morrow  we  have  the  twelfth  chapter  of  Ecclesiastes. 
You  will  remember  your  promise  about  writing,  and 
you  must  tell  me  all  about  matters  and  things,  whether 
I  have  asked  you  or  not.  Be  a  good  girl. 

Very  affectionately  your  sister, 

MARY  ABBY  DODGE. 

JANUARY  1,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER:  I  believe  that  I  do  not  owe 
you  a  letter,  but  that  I  wrote  to  you  last,  nevertheless 
as  Augusta  is  gone  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  be  scribe 
for  the  whole  family  and  answer  not  only  my  letters 
but  father's  and  mother's  too.  I  suppose  the  next 
question  you  would  ask,  were  you  here,  would  be, 
' '  Where  is  Augusta  ?  "  To  which  I  should  reply  — 
"  A  fortnight  ago  Wednesday,  A.M.,  we  were  quietly 
wending  our  way  up  the  hill  of  science  in  our  own 
chamber,  when  our  studies  were  unceremoniously  in 
terrupted  by  the  calling  of  one  Mr.  M — ,  of  Man 
chester,  who  came,  as  he  told  father,  '  for  one  of  his 
girls.' "  To  make  a  long  story  short,  he  wanted 
Augusta  to  take  the  school  in  Newport  and  she  is  now 
employed  in  the  delightful  task  of  assisting  the  inex 
perienced  juveniles  under  her  care,  in  their  toilsome 
journey  to  the  temple  of  fame,  or  rather  knowledge. 

I  visited  Bayne's  Panorama  of  a  Voyage  to  Europe 
this  forenoon.  At  the  request  of  my  friends  I  accom 
panied  them  to  Salem,  and  was  well  repaid  by  a  sight 


STUDENT   DAYS  25 

of  the  many  wonders  of  art  and  nature  in  a  small 
part,  to  be  sure,  of  the  Old  World.  The  three  hours' 
session  in  Franklin  Hall  gave  me  a  better  idea  of 
London  and  its  "suburbs,"  Liverpool,  its  commerce 
and  shipping,  etc.,  and  the  beautiful  scenery  of  the 
Rhine,  than  many  weeks  of  mere  reading  would  have 
done.  There  has  been  quite  an  excitement  here 
against  the  canine  race.  Humanity  in  Hamilton 
seems  to  have  waged  a  war  of  extermination  against 
that  most  unfortunate  race  of  animals.  It  is  reported 
that  ten  have  been  made  to  "  pay  the  debt  of  nature 
by  the  cruel  hand  of  rapacious  man."  So  true  is  it 
that  "  man's  inhumanity  to  man  (dogs)  makes  count 
less  thousands  mourn  ; "  still  I  suppose  it  is  better 
that  all  the  dogs  in  Christendom  should  cease  to  be, 
rather  than  a  single  person  should  suffer  the  agonies 
of  hydrophobia.  Do  send  my  music  box  home  as 
soon  as  possible,  for  I  want  to  hear  its  pretty  tunes 
again.  Mother  sends  her  love.  Father  is  about  to 
receive  into  his  stomach  his  accustomed  nine  o'clock 
supper.  Woe  to  his  poor  stomach,  and  alas  !  for  his 
gastric  juice. 

Very  affectionately,  your  sister, 

ABBY. 

IPSWICH,  April  24,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER:  Here  I  am,  I  am  here.  " 'Tis 
true,  'tis  pity,  pity  'tis  'tis  true."  I  have  a  sort  of 
fearful  foreboding  of  homesickness.  I  came  here 
this  afternoon  with  mother.  We  have  about  sev 
enty-five  scholars,  mostly  new  ones.  I  am  to  study 
Paley's  Theology,  Logic,  Woods'  Botany,  "Elements 
of  Criticism,"  and  Virgil.  The  school  is  going  to 
morrow  evening  to  see  the  model  of  Jerusalem  and 


26       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Belshazzar's  Feast.  We  have  no  teachers  except  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Cowles  and  Miss  Robinson.  Miss  Dunning 
is  coming  the  eleventh  of  May.  I  like  very  much, 
have  not  been  homesick,  though  Virgil  and  I  had  a 
quarrel  last  eve. 

PREFACE. 

Pay  the  postage!  !  !  "No!  Pay  the  dentist  when 
he  leaves  a  fracture  in  your  jaw,  and  pay  the  owner  of 
the  bear  that  stunned  you  with  his  paw,  and  buy  the 
lobster  that  has  had  your  knuckles  in  his  claw,"  but 
the  Fates  forbid  that  I  should  pay  the  postage  on  a 
letter ! 

JUNE  1,  1850. 

We  have  about  ninety-five  scholars  now  in  our  school. 
It  is  more  than  we  have  ever  had  before.  The  tuition 
and  board  here  is  only  twenty-four  and  a  quarter 
dollars  for  a  term  of  eleven  weeks.  Linear  drawing  no 
additional  charge.  Perspective,  two  dollars.  French, 
Latin,  and  all  the  languages  together  only  one  dollar 
additional.  I  study  French,  Latin,  and  German,  and 
only  pay  one  dollar  more  than  for  English  tuition. 
I  do  not  recollect  what  is  paid  for  instrumental  music. 
Vocal  music  is  taught  for  nothing.  I  should  think, 
therefore,  that  this  school  was  the  cheaper,  and  I 
should  not  be  much  surprised  if  it  were  found  to  be 
the  better.  It  is  considered  a  very  excellent  school. 
The  only  English  study  which  I  now  have  is  Hitch 
cock's  Geology.  Jane  Hitchcock,  the  daughter  of 
the  author,  is  here  at  school,  and  is  a  very  lovely  girl. 
I  have  been  through  Alexander's  "Evidences  of 
Christianity"  this  term.  We  have  a  Composition 
Class,  the  members  of  which  write  a  composition 
every  week  and  read  it  to  Mr.  Cowles  before  the 


STUDENT   DAYS  27 

class.  I  was  just  engaged  in  writing  mine  when  your 
letter  reached  me,  and  instead  of  going  on  with  the 
composition,  I  sat  down  to  answer  it.  The  subject 
was  "  Life  on  a  Railroad."  Don't  you  wish  you 
could  read  it  when  it  is  finished  ?  I  am  afraid  it  will 
not  be  worth  reading.  I  don't  feel  in  the  mood  to 
write  a  composition  this  morning.  I  do  not  think  I 
shall  go  home  to  see  the  installation  of  Mr.  M.  In 
the  first  place  I  do  not  care  about  seeing  him  installed 
in  Mr.  Kelley's  place,  and,  secondly,  I  cannot  very 
well  spare  the  time. 

I  have  lately  formed  the  plan  of  eating  two  meals  a 
day.  What  do  you  think  of  it?  I  found  that  my 
suppers  did  not  digest  well  and  I,  at  first,  tried  to  eat 
only  a  very  little,  but  when  you  sit  down  to  a  table 
loaded  with  good  things,  it  is  difficult  to  tell  how  much 
a  very  little  is.  For  several  days  I  have  eaten  only  a 
breakfast  and  dinner.  After  dinner  I  study  till  four 
o'clock,  then  go  to  school  —  am  there  about  an  hour 
—  then  remain  at  the  seminary  and  study  after  school 
till  little  after  six  — •  then  walk  till  half  past  seven  — 
study  again  till  nine  —  rise  a  little  past  four,  break 
fast  at  half-past  six,  go  to  school  quarter  before  eight, 
stay  till  about  half  past  twelve  and  then  dine,  etc. 
Now  I  have  a  good  deal  of  studying  to  do,  and  could 
hardly  find  time  to  eat  supper  and  walk  an  hour,  both. 
But  the  walking  is  absolutely  necessary  to  my  health, 
and  I  must  walk.  As  I  study  pretty  much  all  the 
time,  you  will  see  that  that  is  the  only  exercise  I 
have.  I  think  it  is  much  more  profitable  for  me  to 
give  up  supper  than  it  would  be  to  give  up  walking. 
I  am  sure  that  I  feel  better.  The  people  here  opposed 
it  at  first,  but  Dr.  Storrs  of  Braintree  was  here  the 
other  day,  and  it  was  mentioned  to  him,  and  he  quite 


28       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

approved  it,  so  they  don't  say  much  about  it  now. 
When  you  write  tell  me  what  you  think. 


[To  A  BROTHER.] 

I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  so  pleasant  a  board 
ing-place.  I  think  the  company  of  women,  I  mean 
refined  and  well-informed  women,  exercises  a  very 
great  influence  over  men  who  associate  with  them.  I 
hope  also  that  you  will  not  omit  the  many  little  points 
(in  society  called  etiquette)  which  go  to  make  up 
your  manners.  Our  old  writing-books  used  to  say, 
"A  man's  manners  commonly  makes  his  fortune." 
I  did  not  understand  it  then,  but  I  do  now.  I  am 
sure  that  I,  for  one,  judge  of  a  man  by  his  manners. 
And  I  think  they  are  a  pretty  good  criterion.  Some 
affect  to  neglect  all  such  things,  but  it  is  no  good 
trait  in  their  characters.  I  like  to  see  every  man  or 
woman,  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor,  gentle  and  polite  in 
everything.  I  suppose  you  have  some  hope  of  being 
rich  yourself,  as  so  many  of  your  predecessors  have 
become  so.  I  cannot  say  but  that  I  hope  you  will,  if 
you  will  make  a  good  use  of  your  riches.  I  hope  you 
and  I  will  be  rich  enough  sometime  to  go  to  Europe. 
I  should,  and  what  is  more  I  mean  to,  if  I  am  ever 
able.  I  suppose  you  will  say  the  prospect  looks 
rather  dark  now,  and  so  it  does,  but  stranger  things 
than  that  have  sometime  happened.  By  the  way,  have 
you  seen  the  statement  made  in  the  papers,  that  a 
French  chemist  has  discovered  the  secret  of  the  crys 
tallization  of  carbon,  to  form  the  diamond?  You 
know  the  diamond  is  pure  crystallized  carbon,  the 
same  substance  as  common  coal,  only  crystallized. 
It  has  often  been  resolved  into  coal  or  carbon,  but  no 


STUDENT  DAYS  29 

chemist  has  yet  been  able  to  make  a  diamond  of  car 
bon.  If  this  is  a  real  discovery,  it  is  a  very  wonder 
ful  one. 

IPSWICH,  October  3,  1850. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER:  I  left  Ipswich  last  Friday, 
and  reached  home  just  as  the  family  finished  dinner. 
Found  Mary  there  all  ready  to  cut  my  white  dress, 
the  dress.  She  began  it  in  the  afternoon,  and  it 
was  nearly  finished  when  I  came  back  to  Ipswich. 
Mother,  Mary,  Augusta,  and  myself  rode  up  to  Uncle 
Benjamin's  in  the  evening,  had  a  pleasant  visit. 
Father  came  up  to  go  home  with  us.  Last  Friday 
afternoon,  in  company  with  Daniel  Webster  Stan- 
wood,  Uncle  Isaac's  grandson,  a  little  boy  of  some 
four  years  of  age,  I  started  for  South  Berwick.  It 
was  nearly  dark  when  the  cars  stopped  at  South  Ber 
wick.  The  depot  is  built  of  stone  and  seems  to  be 
situated  in  the  midst  of  woods.  It  was  rather  gloomy 
that  night,  I  assure  you.  I  procured  a  carriage,  as  it 
was  nearly  two  miles  to  Mr.  P — 's.  We  rode  in  a 
common  carryall  with  three  seats.  Daniel  and  my 
self  had  to  get  out  whenever  the  other  persons  in  the 
carriage  wished  to  alight,  which  you  know  must  have 
been  very  agreeable  in  the  fog  and  darkness.  How 
ever,  we  reached  Mr.  P — 's  in  safety.  The  next 
moruiug  was  unpleasant.  J.  had  the  sick  headache, 
and  my  impressions  of  Maine  could  not  of  course  be 
very  agreeable.  In  the  afternoon  the  sky  was  clear, 
and  we  walked  nearly  the  whole  time.  J's  academy 
is  situated  on  a  hill  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
Mr.  P's.  The  walk  leading  to  it  is  very  retired  and 
pleasant,  shaded  by  rows  of  fine  trees.  I  should 
think  South  Berwick  a  very  pleasant  town.  There 
are  a  considerable  number  of  pretty  houses,  and  what 


30       GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

I  like  very  much,  yards  attached  to  them.  There  are 
also  a  good  many  trees,  which  always  give  a  pleasant 
appearance  to  any  town.  Monday  morning  I  went 
into  J's  school,  and  was  there  about  an  hour  when 
the  coach  came  for  me,  and  at  noon  I  found  myself 
in  Ipswich.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  farther 
towards  Maine  than  Ipswich.  I  was  very  much 
pleased  with  my  journey. 

My  school  closes  four  weeks  from  to-day.  Can 
you  realize  that  your  youngest  sister  is  so  soon  to 
emerge  from  childhood  and  girlhood,  and  step  out 
upon  the  arena  of  life?  1  suppose  when  you  will 
look  upon  me  as  no  longer  a  girl,  and  dependent,  but 
as  a  woman  and  comparatively  independent,  I  shall 
receive  an  accession  of  dignity  and  importance  in 
your  eyes.  Well,  I  have  cluug  to  childhood  as  long 
as  I  could,  and  now  that  I  must  leave  it  and  must 
take  an  active  part  in  that  society  of  which  I  have 
hitherto  been  only  a  passive  member,  I  hope  I  shall 
be  able  to  give  back  the  good  which  I  have  received  a 
hundredfold.  I  hope  that  I  shall  not  disappoint  the 
expectations  which  have  been  formed  respecting  me. 
I  hope  that  when  my  life  is  closed,  it  may  be  said 
that  the  world  is  better  for  my  having  lived  in  it. 

I  am  now  studying  Latin,  French,  Moral  Philoso 
phy,  Taylor's  General  History,  and  Chemistry.  The 
latter  is  Stockhardt's,  a  very  large  and  very  interest 
ing  book.  I  think  you  would  like  to  read  it,  and  I 
will  lend  it  to  you  when  I  have  finished  it. 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

ABBY. 


Ill 

TEACHING 

1850-1856 


31 


Ill 

TEACHING 

1850-1856 
IPSWICH,  December  6,  1850. 

TO    WHOM    IT    MAY    CONCERN. 

Mary  Abby  Dodge  sendeth  Greetings  with  Much  Af 
fection  : 

On  Tuesday,  the  third  day  of  December,  in  the 
year  of  our  Lord  1850,  I  bade  adieu  to  my  home  and 
friends  and  like  Abraham  of  yore  departed  upon  a 
journey  to  strangers.  Several  of  my  schoolm — , 
pupils,  I  should  say,  were  on  the  train.  We  reached 
Ipswich  and  the  station  became  one  mass  of  girls, 
and  band-boxes,  and  brothers,  and  fathers,  and 
trunks  and  coaches.  The  rain  was  drenching  every 
thing  and  everybody.  I  jumped  into  a  coach  and 
was  taken  to  my  boarding-house,  but  found  my  new 
trunk  had  been  left  at  the  depot  to  enjoy  a  bath.  I 
went  to  my  room  where  was  a  good  fire,  and  my  trunk 
soon  came,  evidently  refreshed  and  strengthened  by 
the  ablutions  which  it  had  undergone.  When  we  went 
down  to  tea  I  had  to  sit  at  the  head  of  the  table.  I 
don't  think  any  of  us  were  liable  to  suffer  dyspepsia 
from  overmuch  eating  that  night.  I  slept  very  well 
until  three  o'clock,  and  suffice  it  to  say  I  was  dressed 
and  had  my  room  in  order  in  season  to  go  to  school  at 
33 


34       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

nine  o'clock,  and  when  the  "  good  morning"  was  said 
I  rose  from  my  chair  about  so  —  -  much. 

I  weathered  the  storm  and  reached  the  harbor  in 
safety.  We  have  about  sixty  scholars  in  school,  and 
nine  of  the  young  ladies  are  in  my  house. 

WEDNESDAY  NOON. 

It  is  a  week  to-day  since  I  have  been  a  teacher.  I 
suppose  you  would  like  to  know  what  my  classes  are. 
First,  in  the  morning  I  hear  Roxana  C.  and  another 
little  girl  recite  in  history,  read,  spell,  etc.  Then  I 
have  a  class  in  "  Watts  on  the  Mind,"  afterwards  a 
class  in  French,  then  a  class  in  Virgil.  In  the  after 
noon  I  have  a  class  in  Adams'  Arithmetic  and  one  in 
Euclid.  I  suppose  you  would  like  to  know  how  I  suc 
ceed,  but  I  cannot  tell  myself  whether  I  suit  or  not.  I 
have  not  yet  found  any  difficulties.  The  girls  are  all 
very  pleasant  and  seem  disposed  to  do  right.  There 
is  not  a  girl  in  my  house  from  whom  I  apprehend 
any  trouble. 

Thus  before  her  eighteenth  birthday  was  Miss 
Dodi>'c  the  teacher  at  the  boardino-  home  of  nine 

O  C5 

young  girls,  caring  for  them  out  of  school  hours, 
presiding  at  the  table,  conducting  family  devo 
tions,  and  teaching  several  classes  at  the  semi 
nary. 

IPSWICH,  June  9,  1851. 

You  mentioned  a  wish  that  I  could  come  to  Wor 
cester  at  this  season  of  the  year.  I  assure  you  that 
I  should  like  it  of  all  things.  I  verily  believe  that  if 
I  had  money  enough  I  would  go  out  to  Worcester  in 
my  vacation  and  spend  a  few  days.  I  have  a  great 
desire  to  see  the  ''  Heart  of  the  old  Bay  State,"  to 


TEACHING  35 

gaze  on  "  rich  and  rural  Worcester,  where  through 
the  calm  repose  of  sunny  vales  and  springing  woods 
the  gentle  Nashua  flows,  to  where  Wachusett's  wintry 
blasts  the  mountain  cedars  stir,"  but  all  such  pleas 
ures  I  must  forego  for  the  present.  Will  my  eyes  ever 
gaze  on  the  foarn-clad  torrents  of  Niagara?  Will  my 
ears  ever  listen  to  the  thunders  of  its  eternal  storm  ? 
Oh,  gold  !  gold  !  "  bright  and  yellow,  hard  and  cold  " 
—  '•  the  sweat  of  the  poor  and  the  blood  of  the 
brave,"  if  gold  were  mine,  earth  should  be  one  great 
museum  for  me.  I  would  scale  Alpine  heights,  I 
would  look  at  the  fires  of  Etna,  I  would  sail  on  Wi- 
riandermere,  I  would  tread  the  paths  hallowed  by  our 
Saviour's  footsteps,  I  would  tread  every  place  where 
"Earth's  great  and  learned  ones"  have  trodden,  I 
would  stand  where  Avon  winds  silently  along  immor 
talized  by  "  the  Shakespeare  of  her  tuneful  clime,"  I 
would  view  the  "  banks  and  braes  of  bonny  Boon," 
though  they  should  bring  "  a  nation's  glory  and  her 
shame,  in  silent  sadness  up,"  for  poor  Burns  was  indeed 
Scotland's  glory  and  her  shame.  But  it  is  useless  to 
mention  particulars,  I  shall  never  probably  go  farther 
than  our  Western  prairies,  never  step  my  foot  on  classic 
shore  —  and  it  is  useless  to  regret.  Perhaps  you  will. 
You  mention  a  variety  of  entertainments  open  at 
Worcester,  some  of  which  I  should  like.  The  excur 
sions  I  think  I  should  enjoy,  but  above  all  and  over 
all,  oh  !  that  I  might  hear  Jenny  Lind,  the  "  Nightin 
gale  of  Song."  This  is  another  of  the  pleasures  from 
which  I  am  debarred,  because  my  purse  unfortunately 
has  a  bottom.  However,  I  do  not  complain.  Perhaps 
one  of  these  days  I  shall  go  to  Europe  and  hear  Jenny 
Lind  on  her  own  native  shore.  Did  you  read  the 


36        GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

anecdote  of  one  gentlemen  asking  another  how  lie 
liked  Jenny  Lind?  "Why,"  said  he,  "I  think  if  she 
ever  gets  to  Heaven,  she  will  be  the  leader  of  the 
choir."  I  am  sorry  you  did  not  tell  me  more  about 
the  impression  she  produced  on  you,  and  I  am  afraid 
you  were  disappointed  in  her,  that  she  did  not  realize 
all  the  expectations  you  had  formed. 

1  was  at  home  a  week  ago.  J.  was  with  me.  I 
walked  home  in  the  morning,  which  is  the  second  time 
I  have  done  so  this  term.  I  enjoyed  it  very  much,  I 
assure  you.  There  is  nothing  so  quieting,  so  soothing, 
and  at  the  same  time  so  elevating  (to  me)  as  a  soli 
tary  walk  amid  the  beauties  of  Nature,  when  I  can 
look  "  through  Nature  up  to  Nature's  God."  I  had 
a  letter  from  Mary  last  Friday  morning  in  which  she 
conveyed  to  me  the  intelligence  of  the  arrival  in 
Beverly  of  a  young  gentleman  of  eight  pounds  weight 
who  made  his  debut  into  this  world  some  four  and 
twenty  hours  previous.  Would  not  you  like  to  have 
a  peep  into  his  little  round  face  and  listen  to  the 
Lind-like  warblings  of  his  harmonious  wind-pipe? 
God  bless  the  boy ! 

I  have  read  the  "  Life  of  Franklin  "  which  you  sent 
me,  for  which  I  am  much  obliged  both  to  you  and  your 
friend,  Mr.  Patch.  I  must  say,  however,  that  the 
immortal  and  world-famed  Franklin  has  sunk  im 
measurably  in  my  estimation  since  my  perusal  of  his 
autobiography. 

I  think  his  moral  and  religious  principles  were  very 
lax,  and  what  is  still  worse,  he  speaks  of  his  pecca 
dilloes  with  the  utmost  indifference,  as  if  he  consid 
ered  them  mere  matters  of  course.  I  cannot  prevent 
the  impression  also  that  he  was  a  heartless  man,  but 


TEACHING  37 

peiiiaps  I  am  mistaken.  The  whole  of  his  affair  with 
Miss  Reed,  his  wife,  seems  to  me  to  be  very  business 
like  and  philosophical.  However,  my  strictures  will 
not  detract  from  his  well-earned  fame,  and  if  they 
could,  far  be  it  from  me  to  pluck  one  laurel  from  the 
unfading  wreath  of  the  illustrious  dead ! 

OCTOBER,  1851. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER  :  I  am  writing  in  Mrs.  Cowles' 
desk.  The  young  ladies  are  very  quietly  studying, 
coming  now  and  then  to  ask  me  a  question,  leave  to 
speak,  etc.,  etc.  I  have  no  recitations  from  two  to 
three,  and  consequently  I  spend  that  hour  in  reading, 
etc.  The  book  which  I  generally  read  at  this  hour 
(Addison's  "  Spectator")  not  being  here,  I  thought 
I  would  commence  a  letter  to  you. 

I  think  the  moral  atmosphere  of  Cambridge  must 
be  uncommonly  good  for  these  degenerate  days.  How 
could  you  otherwise  be  brought  to  a  sense  of  the 
duty  devolving  upon  you  as  an  elder  sister?  "  Better 
late  than  never,"  is  the  old  adage.  I  trust  your  new 
found  responsibilities  will  not  sit  too  heavily  upon 
you,  but  that  you  will  be  indefatigable  in  your  en 
deavors  to  promote  my  good,  remembering  that  "  just 
as  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree's  inclined,"  and  perhaps 
the  impression  you  make  on  my  plastic  mind  may 
never  be  effaced. 

I  have  a  few  things  to  say  to  you,  some  in  severity, 
all  in  love.  I  will  say  them  now  before  I  forget 
them.  You  say  you  have  joined  a  reading  club. 
Good.  You  say  you  are  reading  Ty tier's  Universal 
History.  Better.  You  say  that  yourself  and  Mr. 
Webster  belong  to  it.  Best.  Now  comes  the  "  Tug 
of  War."  1.  Joining  the  reading  club ;  I  reiterate  : 


38       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Good.  2.  Reading  Tytler's  Universal  History ;  I 
reiterate  :  Better  with  a  few  qualifications.  You  say 
"  if  we  females,"  etc.  Haunah  Augusta  Dodge, 
never  let  me  hear  you  call  yourself  a  female ;  never 
call  me  a  female.  Would  you  rank  yourself  with  the 
brutes.  Are  you  a  female?  So  is  a  cow  —  so  is  a 
hog.  Do  not  thus  degrade  yourself.  Stand  up  in 
all  the  glory  of  your  birthright.  Call  yourself  a 
woman  !  Be  a  woman  ! 

Furthermore,  is  it  possible  that  you  are  as  infatuated 
as  you  represent  yourself  to  be  ?  I  know  you  have 
always  disliked  history.  I  know  that  reading  through 
a  large  book  of  historical  information  is  an  under 
taking  —  to  you,  herculean.  It  is  no  use  to  say  you 
are  not  interested  in  the  History.  You  ought  to  be 
interested.  You  are  interested.  Everything  that 
concerns  the  world  concerns  you.  Do  not  contract 
your  soul  to  the  time  —  a  moment,  and  the  space  — 
a  point,  which  your  puny  self  occupies,  "  Verbum 
sat  sapienti." 

DECEMBER  5,   1851. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  AND  SISTER  :  I  have  been  delib 
erating  for  some  time  as  to  whom  I  should  direct  my 
letter,  and  have  finally  come  to  the  conclusion  which 
you  see.  You  both  will  want  to  know  very  much  the 
same  things. 

Well !  to  begin  the  history  of  my  eventful  life  since 
last  we  met :  Firstly,  I  went  into  John's  shop  after  I 
left  home  and  bought  a  pound  of  sugar  all  in  lumps, 
a  very  dignified  purchase  truly  for  a  teacher.  Never 
theless,  almost  all  celebrated  people  have  had  their 
idiosyncrasies,  and  of  course  I  should  not  be  an  ex 
ception,  and  you  can  both  testify  to  my  passion  for 
lumps  of  sugar.  When  I  lauded  at  Ipswich  I  went 


TEACHING  39 

to  Mrs.  L's,  and  was  ushered  into  my  room.  It  is 
about  as  large  as  our  front  chamber.  It  has  three 
windows  with  white  corded  cambric  curtains  and 
fringes.  It  has  also  a  handsome  new  mahogany 
bureau  with  four  large  drawers  and  two  or  three  little 
ones.  We  have  six  common  chairs,  a  stuffed  arm 
chair,  and  a  large-armed  rocking-chair.  We  have 
moreover  a  little  light  stand  with  a  drawer  —  very 
convenient,  and  a  portable  sink,  also  very  convenient. 
Mrs.  L.  is  going  to  make  us  some  crickets  as  soon  as 
she  has  time.  We  have  a  good  woolen  carpet,  a  new 
oil-cloth  rug,  a  handsome  air-tight  stove,  a  mantel 
piece,  good  clean,  light  paper  (green  and  white)  light 
paint,  two  large  convenient  closets,  a  nice  white  large 
napkin  on  our  bureau  on  which  I  have  put  my  hand 
some  books,  a  looking-glass  with  a  black  and  gilt 
frame,  a  pair  of  brass  tongs  and  shovel,  a  basket  for 
wood,  a  broom  brush  and  dust  pan,  a  bedstead  some 
thing  like  that  in  your  front  chamber,  etc.  I  must 
not  forget  to  mention  our  canary  bird,  which  my  room 
mate  brought  with  her,  and  which  is  a  very  fine  singer. 
What  do  you  think  of  my  lodgings,  mother  mine?  I 
never  had  such  a  room  in  Ipswich  before.  Mrs.  L. 
is  very  kind  —  seems  to  think  she  cannot  do  too  much 
—  thinks  I  never  eat  enough,  etc.  She  told  Mrs. 
Cowles  to-day  that  I  had  been  a  comfort  to  her  ever 
since  I  had  been  here,  and  was  worth  as  much  as  the 
whole  house  put  together.  She  told  me  herself  that 
she  considered  me  the  greatest  catch  she  had  had.  Of 
course  this  is  for  your  own  private  ear.  My  room 
mate  is  very  agreeable  and  says  she  shall  think  noth 
ing  too  much  to  do  for  me,  and  not  only  says  it,  but 

acts  up  to  it.     I  am  very  sorry  that  Mrs.  does 

not  know  the  reasons  for  my  leaving.     I  hope  the  old 


40       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

lady  will  rejoice  in  the  full,  glorious,  unsullied,  and 
unshared  possession  of  her  regal  dignity  till  she 
"  goes  down  to  the  grave  like  a  shock  of  corn  in  its 
season  fully  ripe."  We  have  a  very  pleasant  school. 
Mrs.  Cowles  thinks  we  shall  have  about  seventy  all 
told.  School  commences  at  eight  o'clock.  I  have  a 
class  in  Colburn,  Grammar,  Algebra,  Natural  Philoso 
phy,  Virgil,  and  History  —  all  recite  in  the  forenoon. 
We  are  to  have  no  recitations  in  the  afternoon.  This 
arrangement  I  like  very  much.  Writing  and  drawing 
in  the  P.M.,  and  at  four  devotional  exercises. 

JANUARY  15,   1852. 

Mr  DEAR  SISTER  :  I  had  a  letter  from  Maria  last 
Tuesday.  She  said  she  wrote  with  Josey  pulling  at 
her  dress,  and  had  hold  of  one  corner  of  the  sheet 
trying  with  all  her  little  strength  to  pull  it  away.  I 
wish  she  had  told  me  which  corner  her  dear  little  fin 
gers  had  touched,  but  I  kissed  them  all  to  make  sure. 
Father  was  here  about  five  minutes  last  Saturday, 
came  to  town  to  pa}'  taxes;  a  short  visit,  but  better 
than  nothing.  Mother  and  father  talk  of  coming  over 
to  Ipswich  one  of  these  days  for  a  sleigh-ride.  I  go 
to  school  at  eight  in  the  morning,  have  an  Arithmetic 
class  in  Thomson's  Large  Arithmetic.  General  exer 
cises  at  a  quarter  to  nine,  then  a  class  in  Grammar, 
one  in  Algebra,  problems  in  quadratic  equations,  one 
in  Parker's  Natural  Philosophy,  and  one  in  Virgil, 
which  occupies  the  time  of  the  recitations,  an  hour 
and  a  half.  They  are  in  the  ninth  book.  After  dinner 
I  go  to  school  again  and  study  German  with  Miss 
Robinson.  At  three  and  a  half  I  have  a  little  class 
in  United  States  History.  At  four  I  go  to  Mrs. 
Cowles  to  practise  till  tea  time,  after  which  I  read, 


TEACHING  41 

study,  write,  etc.  Prof.  Laverner,  of  Hartford,  gave 
us  a  reading  from  Shakespeare  about  a  fortnight  ago 
in  the  seminary,  very  good.  I  am  reading  Edgar 
Foe's  works. 

FEBRUARY  19,   1852. 

MY  OWN  DEAR  MOTHER:  Ellen  Hobbs  has  come. 
Oh  !  ye  gods  and  goddesses,  all  by  whom  Troy  stands, 
and  Neptunian  Troy  smokes  to  the  ground.  She  has 
come  to  see  me  and  is  going  to  stay  till  Monday.  Do 
not  blame  me  for  not  coming  home,  you  know  I  can 
not  leave  Ellen  C.  after  she  has  come  so  far  to  see 
me.  I  should  be  as  much  surprised  to  hear  that  you 

and  father  were  divorced  as  to  hear  of 's  broken 

engagement.  I  am  very  sorry  for  it,  as  I  fear  it  will 
embitter  and  embarrass  his  whole  life,  and  hers,  too. 
This,  however,  is  none  of  my  concern. 

Good-by. 

From  yours  affectionately, 

M.  A.  D. 

JUNE  15,   1852. 

Have  you  ever  read  "The  Wide,  Wide  World," 
or  "  Queechy,"  or  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"?  If  you 
have  not,  I  advise  you  to  do  it,  especially  the  latter. 
They  are  well  worth  your  attention,  though  they  are 
stories.  If  you  ever  want  to  read  any  English  history, 
I  desire  you  read  Macaulay.  Mr.  Cowles  gave  me 
the  books  (two  volumes)  ;  I  have  read  them  through, 
and  Augusta  has  the  first  volume  now,  but  I  presume 
she  will  be  done  with  it  when  she  comes  home  in 
August.  I  think  there  are  very  few  kinds  of  secular 
reading  more  improving  than  history.  Macaulay  is  a 
standard  author,  the  prince  of  prose  writers,  in  my 
humble  estimation. 


42       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

JANUARY  12,   1853. 

"I  wonder  as  I  gaze."  Is  it  possible  that  twelve 
days  of  our  "  New  Year  "  have  already  "  gone  to  the 
slumber  that  shall  know  no  waking,"  gone  with  their 
burden  of  testimony  for  and  against  us,  sealed  up 
till  the  last  great  day,  gone,  gone?  "  Tempus  fugit." 
When  I  was  young,  a  summer  seemed  a  great  while  — 
a  year  interminable,  but  now  spring  treads  on  the  heels 
of  summer,  summer  hurries  to  autumn,  and  winter  is 
here  before  ' '  Brown  October's  sere  and  yellow  leaf  " 
has  fairly  won  a  place  in  our  memories.  I  sit  down 
to  your  letter  with  some  embarrassment.  Ellen  has 
had  a  letter  from  E.  A.  Rollins  proposing  that  he 
should  spend  next  Sabbath  in  Ipswich  if  agreeable  to 
her.  She  is  now  here  doing  a  variety  of  undignified 
things  to  show  her  joy  and  vainly  trying  to  stir  up  my 
imperturbable  nature  into  a  corresponding  yeast  of 
enthusiasm. 

You  inquire  the  state  of  my  mind  while  thus  view 
ing  the  exit  of  my  companions  from  the  stage  of  sin 
gle  life.  I  have,  as  you  may  suppose,  thought  and 
reflected  much  on  this  important  subject  and  have  at 
length  come  to  the  following  conclusion : 

"  Man  is  a  vapor 

Full  of  •vvoes, 
Cuts  a  caper, 

Down  he  goes. 
Woman  is  a  bubble 

Light  as  air, 
Makes  man  trouble 

Then  don't  care." 

You  speak  in  your  letter  of  a  headache  arising  from 
a  rush  of  blood  to  the  head  in  a  warm  room.  Alas  ! 
infatuated  girl.  Do  you  not  know  that  a  rush  of  blood 


TEACHING  43 

to  the  head  is  owing  to  a  rush  of  food  to  the  stomach  ? 
Take  care  of  the  pies  and  cake,  and  the  head  will  take 
care  of  itself. 

FEBRUARY,   1853. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  CONNER:  I  have  just  heard  that 
you  have  really  and  truly  reached  Cincinnati,  and  I 
am  so  delighted  with  the  information  that  I  must  take 
the  liberty  of  writing  a  letter  of  congratulation.  If 
you  only  knew  the  visions  of  bursting  boilers  and 
sunken  steamers,  of  shattered  cars  and  overturned 
coaches  that  have  flitted  before  my  eyes  during  all 
these  weeks,  I  am  sure  3~ou  would  excuse  what  may 
seem  to  you  presumption.  To  all  my  inquiries  after 
you,  nobody  could  give  a  satisfactory  reply.  All  I 
knew  was  that  you  were  gone,  and  that  Mr.  Conner 
was  gone,  intending  to  make  Cincinnati  your  tarrying 
place,  but  weeks  passed  away,  and  not  a  word  was 
heard  from  you,  so  that  I  was  forced  at  length  to  the 
conclusion  that  you  had  either  gone  to  Australia  or 

—  to  the  bottom  of  Lake  Erie.  Neither  of  these,  I  am 
glad  to  learn,  is  true.  You  are  still  in  the  land  of  the 
living,  and  not  in  the  land  of  gold.  I  am  also  glad, 
delighted,  in  ecstasies,  to  hear  that  you  do  not  like 
your  new  home  very  well.  I  hope  you  will  never  like 
it  any  better.  I  hope  your  disaffection  will  increase 
every  day,  till  you  find  Cincinnati  no  longer  endur 
able,  and  will  be  fain  to  see  once  more  New  England 
hills  and  New  England  faces  —  but  I  forget  myself 

-  I  am  not  writing  to  a  "  Yankee,"  the  first  and  last 
article  of  whose  creed  is  that  "  our  country  is  a  great 
country,"  who  thinks  America  the  only  decent  country 
on  the  face  of  the  earth  —  New  England  the  only  civ 
ilized  part  of  America,  and  his  own  homestead  the 
fairest  spot  on  which  the  sun  shines. 


44       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

FEBRUARY,   1853. 

I  am  very  busy  indeed  this  term.  Besides  teaching 
six  or  seven  classes,  I  am  myself  studying  Greek  and 
German,  and  of  course  I  wish  to  keep  up  my  knowl 
edge  of  English,  so  I  peruse  a  few  English  books.  I 
am  passing  my  time  very  pleasantly  and  happily. 
I  do  not  think  I  have  enjoyed  so  much  since  I  have 
been  teaching  as  I  do  this  winter.  I  go  home  every 
two  or  three  weeks. 

I  feel  very  much  interested  in  the  subjects  treated 
iu  the  papers  which  you  have  sent,  though  I  cannot 
confess  myself  particularly  pleased  with  the  manner 
in  which  they  are  handled.  I  do  not  see  that  the 
dispute  makes  very  rapid  progress.  It  is  very  absurd 
to  suppose  that  the  spiritual  manifestations  are  all 
what  is  vulgarly  termed  u  humbug,"  but  it  is  equally 
difficult  for  me  to  believe  that  the  Infinite  God,  or  the 
holy  angels,  or  disembodied  spirits  will  come  to  the 
earth  to  lift  tables,  twist  silver  forks,  or  tear  dresses. 
Is  it  to  be  supposed  that  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth, 
whom  no  man  hath  seen  or  can  see,  will  condescend 
to  such  performances  ?  Is  it  to  be  supposed  that  they 
who  have  washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white 
in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and  have  gone  in  to  His 
marriage  feast,  should  return  to  earth  to  answer  the 
impertinent  questions  of  ignorant  blockheads  as  well 
as  "  earth's  great  and  learned  ones  "?  Furthermore, 
how  is  it  that  the  communication  of  such  men  as 
Socrates,  Washington,  Franklin,  etc.,  are  not  one 
whit  above  the  common  run  of  a  schoolgirl's  compo 
sition?  How  is  it  that,  having  added  the  wisdom  of 
Heaven  to  the  wisdom  of  Earth,  the  sum  of  both 
should  not  be  so  great  as  the  original  stock  ?  What 
is  the  use  and  aim,  moreover,  of  these  spiritual  com- 


TEACHING  45 

munications?  I  have  never  in  any  one  of  them  seen 
a  great  truth,  before  unknown,  brought  to  light.  I 
have  never  seen  any  new  light  thrown  upon  a  hitherto 
obscure  truth.  Do  they  say  that  the  great  doctrine 
of  love  is  promulgated?  but  so  it  was  in  the  New 
Testament  fully  and  forcibly,  and  even  in  the  Old 
also,  and  if  men  believe  not  Moses  and  the  Prophets, 
neither  will  they  be  persuaded  though  one  rose  from 
the  dead.  Is  it  possible  that  the  Bible  is  so  imper 
fect  a  revelation  that  iu  these  latter  times  it  should 
be  necessary  for  tables  and  chairs  to  dance  about  to  a 
new  song  of  Redeeming  love?  Do  not  think  me  irrev 
erent.  I  do  not  mean  it  so. 

The  phenomena  have  not  been  satisfactorily  ex 
plained.  But  man  who  has  made  earth,  air,  and  water 
subservient  to  his  will,  who  has  "bottled  up  the 
thunder  "  for  his  own  private  use,  need  not  soon  despair. 
Holy  Writ  tells  us  of  a  time  coming  when  "  many  shall 
run  to  and  fro  and  knowledge  shall  be  increased." 
Truly,  the  first  part  of  the  prophecy  will  apply  to  the 
present  day ;  may  not  the  last  also  be  hastening  to  its 
fulfilment?  The  last  half  century  has  witnessed  many 
interesting  discoveries  in  the  science  of  matter ;  may 
not  the  present  be  also  fruitful  of  equally  interesting 
discoveries  in  the  science  of  mind?  The  dominion  of 
reason  over  animate  matter  has  been  always  known  ; 
may  not  mind  also  have  an  ascendency  over  inani 
mate  matter  to  a  degree  hitherto  unsuspected  ?  How 
ever,  let  us  not  yet  decide,  but  wait  the  fulness  of 
time,  and  iu  the  meanwhile  let  us  never  give  up  the 
Bible  lest  we  be  given  over  to  the  cunning  craftiness 
of  men  who  lie  in  wait  to  deceive. 


46       <*AIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

APRIL  7,   1853. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER  :  Your  letter  awaited  me  on  my 
return  from  Boston  last  nigbt.  I  am  very  much  ob 
liged  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken  to  procure  the 
situation  for  me,  but  I  regret  exceedingly  that  I  can 
not  accept  it.  I  decline  it,  because  I  do  not  think 
it  would  be  quite  right  to  leave  Mrs.  Cowles  at 
this  time.  I  think  the  place  very  desirable  indeed. 
The  salary  would  be  no  object.  It  is  about  the  same 
as  my  present  one,  with  perquisites.  But  I  am  so 
tired  of  Ipswich,  not  of  teaching,  for  I  like  it,  not  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cowles,  for  I  love  them,  but  of  the 
same  white  houses  and  the  same  black  barns, '  the 
dreary,  monotonous  intolerable  sameness.  Mr.  S.'s 
scruples  about  my  age  and  qualifications  are  quite 
amusing.  What  I  am,  and  what  I  can  do,  he  wishes 
to  know,  does  he?  Verily,  I  am  a  damsel  of  just 
twenty  years,  and  can  do  anything  I  undertake,  inas 
much  as  I  never  undertake  anything  which  I  cannot 
accomplish,  "  which  is  an  excellent  thing  in  woman." 
My  birthday  was  last  Thursday,  did  you  remember 
it?  I  cannot  blame  the  good  man  for  not  divining 
that  I  was  the  rara  avis  that  I  am,  considering  he  has 
never  heard  of  me  before,  but  I  respect  him  all  the 
more  for  his  scruples. 

APRIL  22,  1853. 

Mrs.  —  and  Miss  —  honored  us  with  a  visit  one  day 
last  week.  Mother  had  seen  Mrs.  —  a  few  weeks 
before  and  asked  her  to  come  sometime  for  my  sake. . 
Did  you  ever  hear  her  talk?  Her  conversational 
powers  are  very  fully  developed.  She  is  not  troubled 
by  an  embarrassing  timidity,  nor  does  she  fastidiously 
seek  to  clothe  her  sentiments  in  the  conventional  garb 
which  disguises  their  real  worth.  She  has  no  prudish 


TEACHING  47 

scruples  about  inquiring  as  to  the  extent  of  your  finan 
cial  operations,  nor  does  the  "  unexpectable  "  visit  of 
any  one  in  any  way  disconcert  her.  In  short,  she  is 
unique,  —  she  is  a  prodigy,  —  and  I  trust  she  will  be 
u  equal  to  the  angels"  as  to  her  visits. 

Mrs.  C.  said  that  Mr.  Wells  wanted  to  get  me  to 
assist  him  in  the  Putnam  Free  School  in  Newbury- 
port,  but  she  told  him  I  was  too  young. 

APRIL  26,  1853. 

I  received  an  answer  from  Mr.  Sweetser  in  due 
time.  There  are  several  things  about  the  school 
which  I  liked,  particularly  having  only  one  session  a 
day,  and  no  care  out  of  school.  I  am  very  happily  situ 
ated  now.  I  came  with  a  strong  determination  to  be 
homesick,  but  have  been  grievously  disappointed,  and 
unless  some  unforeseen  circumstance  occur,  I  don't  see 
now  how  I  shall  be.  I  have  a  room-mate  not  yet 
fourteen  years  old.  Did  not  anticipate  her  coming 
with  very  pleasurable  emotions,  but  when  I  saw  her 
little  pale  face  my  heart  went  out  towards  her.  My 
classes  and  my  boarding  young  ladies  are  very  pleas 
ant.  I  have  not  yet  said  anything  to  Mrs.  C.  about 
the  Worcester  affair.  She  and  Mr.  C.  came  to  our 
house  the  very  clay  I  received  the  letter  from  Mr. 
Sweetser. 

Doctor  Lambert  spent  the  day  here  yesterday  lec 
turing  on  Physiology.  I  liked  him  very  much.  He 
is  simple,  sensitive,  practical,  and  unaffected.  The 
Court  is  in  session  here  this  week,  —  and  the  Metho 
dist  Conference,  —  so  we  are  quite  lively. 

JUNE  29,  1853. 

I  have  adopted  the  plan  of  walking  half  an  hour  or 
so  before  breakfast,  which  1  like  very  much.  I  have 


48       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

finished  my  picture  in  colored  crayons,  and  it  is  put  in 
a  gilt  frame  and  looks  very  pretty. 

SEPTEMBER  21,   1853. 

I  have  concluded  to  tell  you  a  few  of  the  events 
which  have  banished  "  sleep  from  my  eyes  and  slum 
ber  from  my  eyelids  "  for  the  last  few  nights.  As 
Sterne  says,  "  I  cannot  endure  the  scene  whicli  my 
fancy  has  drawn."  "How  can  I  leave  thee,"  Ips 
wich?  Indeed  I  cannot.  My  soul  shudders  to  con 
template  the  dreary  expanse  that  opens  before  me  on 
leaving  this  my  Alma  Mater.  I  return  to  Ipswich 
again  next  winter. 

By  the  way,  while  I  think  of  it  —  ask  if  they  have 
any  message  to  send  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Conner,  as  I  ex 
pect  to  go  to  Cincinnati  in  a  week  or  two,  and  will  be 
happy  to  carry  anything.  Oh,  I  have  not  told  you 
about  my  going  to  Ohio.  Mrs.  C.  came  up  in  the 
evening,  and  asked  me  if  I  did  not  want  to  go  to  the 
meeting  of  the  American  Board,  in  Cincinnati.  She 
said  they  would  manage  to  take  care  of  my  classes 
while  I  was  gone.  I  did  not  decide  that  night.  She 
said  that  they  did  not  wish  to  put  me  under  any  obli 
gations,  but  of  course  I  should  not  accept  the  proposal 
and  be  gone  three  weeks  and  not  come  back.  Now  I 
expect  to  go,  then  come  back  here  and  stay  for  the 
present. 

BROOKLYN,  LONG  ISLAND. 

We  started  from  the  Beverly  station  in  due  time. 
In  Boston  we  walked  around  an  hour  or  two,  also 
over  Worcester  a  little  while.  At  half-past  seven  we 
took  the  cars  for  Norwich  and  Allyu's  Point,  which  we 
reached  about  ten,  and  here  we  embarked  on  board  the 
steamer  "  Connecticut."  One  of  the  young  men  was 


TEACHING  49 

pushed  off  the  passage-board  into  the  water  by  the 
crowd,  but  they  threw  ropes  to  him  and  soon  drew 
him  out. 

OBERLIN,  OHIO, 
MONDAY  MORNING,  October  3. 
Wednesday  evening  I  started  with  Messrs.  Merwyn 
&  Wood  and  a  Miss  Gallagher,  a  young  lady  who  was 
going  to  Alton  as  a  music  teacher.     We  had  a  very 
pleasant  party.     The  rest  of   the    party  stopped  in 
Cleveland.     I   came   from   C.  to  O.  alone.     I  am  in 
tending  now  to  leave  for  Cincinnati  to-morrow  morn. 

OCTOBER,   1853. 

My  DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER  :  Have  you  begun 
to  be  alarmed  because  I  do  not  come  home  ?  What 
do  you  say  to  my  spending  a  few  months  here  instead 
of  a  few  days?  I  will  not  now  tell  you  about  my 
journey,  but  reserve  it  for  another  time.  I  will  only 
say  that  last  Monday  found  me  in  Putnam.  Here  they 
told  me  that  Miss  G.,  the  Principal,  had  written  to  Mrs. 
C.,  asking  her  to  let  me  stay  here  and  teach.  She  was 
to  send  back  her  answer  by  telegraph.  Now  what  do 
you  say?  The  term  closes  next  January.  It  seemed 
to  me  such  a  good  opportunity,  seeing  I  was  really 
here,  to  see  a  little  of  Ohio  life  —  and  it  don't  seem 
like  going  out  West.  The  boarding-house  and  school 
room  are  all  in  one  building,  so  that  I  shall  not  have 
to  go  out  in  rainy  weather,  and  the  church  is  but  a 
few  steps  away.  I  cannot  tell  whether  I  shall  stay  or 
not  until  Mrs.  C.'s  letter  comes.  If  she  thinks  I  ought 
to  come  home,  I  suppose  I  shall.  If  she  is  willing, 
and  you  are,  I  should  like  to  spend  the  winter,  or  a 
part  of  it,  here  in  Putnam.  I  want  you  to  write  me 


50       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

as  soon  as  you  can  on  receiving  this,  and  tell  me  what 
yoa  think  of  it.  Direct  to  Female  Seminary,  Put 
nam,  Muskingum  Co.,  Ohio. 

IPSWICH,  October  22,   1853. 

MOST  ELOQUENT  SISTER  MINE  :  I  shall  have  to  brush 
up  my  talents,  or  you  will  leave  me  in  the  lurch.  I 
write  now  merely  to  inform  you  of  my  safe  arrival  to 
the  land  of  my  fathers.  You  wish  me  to  give  you  an 
account  of  my  journey.  I  will  just  give  you  an  out 
line,  and  fill  it  up  when  I  see  you.  On  the  reception  of 
^Ir.  Cowles'  letter,  I  thought  best  to  start  immediately 
for  home,  which  I  did  on  Wednesday  morning,  little 
more  than  a  week  from  the  time  of  my  arrival.  I  came 
by  way  of  Columbus,  Cleveland,  Buffalo,  and  Albany, 
and  reached  Ipswich  in  due  season,  where  I  received  the 
warmest  welcome  it  has  ever  been  my  good  fortune  to 
meet.  Yes,  here  I  am  again,  but  whether  for  life  or 
not,  the  sequel  must  show.  I  went  home  in  the  noon 
train  to  see  my  friends  there,  and  mother  brought  me 
back  again  —  but  dear  me,  everything  does  seem  so 
tame  here.  I  have  had  the  most  gorgeous  time.  The 
English  language  is  so  utterly  inadequate  to  express 
the  enjoy  went  I  have  felt,  that  I  despair  of  being  able 
to  give  you  any  adequate  conception  of  it.  Perhaps 
I  will  try  it,  however,  viva-voce,  when  I  have  an  op 
portunity.  I  suppose  you  would  like  to  know  whether 
I  am  to  return  to  Ohio.  I  have  not  yet  quite  decided, 
but  think  I  shall  not,  as  father  and  mother  are  so  un 
willing. 

DECEMBER  20,   1853. 

I  have  improved  some  of  my  spare  time  this  week 
by  reading.  Yesterday  I  read  "The  House  of  the 
Seven  Gables,"  a  romance  by  Nathaniel  Hawthorne, 


TEACHING  51 

the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  Salem.  You  know  he 
has  been  a  resident,  and,  I  believe,  is  a  native  of  Sa 
lem  —  is  now  Consul  at  Liverpool.  I  think  you  might 
be  interested  in  it,  as  some  of  your  peculiar  views  are 
introduced.  I  have  finished  Beecher's  "  Conflict  of 
Ages."  The  book  is  startling,  comprehensive,  liberal, 
and  generally  very  interesting,  with  some  dry  details. 

CHURCH  STREET,  HARTFORD,  CONN., 

February  1,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER  :  I  have  been  here 
perhaps  fifteen  minutes,  and  supposing  you  will  wish 
to  know  of  my  whereabouts,  I  will  take  this  early  op 
portunity  to  inform  you.  It  was  nearly  eight  when 
we  arrived  in  Hartford,  left  Boston  at  four.  I  felt  a 
little  lonesome  when  getting  out  all  alone,  but  a  hack- 
man  came,  and  I  gave  him  my  checks,  and  he  brought 
me  up  here  without  any  further  trouble.  I  went  into 
the  parlor;  Miss  Crocker  came  down,  and  we  intro 
duced  ourselves.  She  is  a  very  gentle,  pleasant-look 
ing  lady  —  perhaps  thirty  years  old. 

I^EBRUARY  5,  1854. 

I  am  now  comfortably  settled  in  Hartford.  Of  course 
I  do  not  feel  at  home  as  in  Ipswich,  but  the  change  is 
very  agreeable.  I  am  boarding  in  a  house  with  fifteen 
pupils  and  five  teachers.  The  family  is  very  pleasant. 
The  school  is  about  the  same  size  as  at  Ipswich.  I  have 
five  classes  :  three  in  Latin,  one  in  Algebra,  and  one 
in  Geometry.  I  have  no  care  out  of  school.  Hart 
ford  was  a  delightful  city  when  I  was  in  it  last  sum 
mer,  but  it  has  been  so  cold  since  I  have  been  here 
that  I  have  been  out  but  very  little.  I  shall  expect  a 
letter  from  you  soon ;  direct  to  Hartford  Female 


52       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Seminary.  You  must  remember  that  I  am  now  en 
tirely  alone,  consequently  letters  will  be  doubly  wel 
come. 

Last  evening  Miss  Chollet  (pronounced  Shollay) 
was  in  my  room,  and  insisted  on  my  spending  u  part 
of  the  evening  with  her.  She  is  a  fine  study  for  me ; 
is  the  niece  of  Professor  Guyot,  of  Cambridge  Uni 
versity,  author  of  "  Earth  and  Man."  She  has  lived 
in  Poland,  Prussia,  Paris,  Switzerland,  London,  and 
I  don't  know  where  else.  Her  father  was,  I  believe, 
a  Prussian  general,  but  is  now  dead.  Her  mother  and 
sister  live  with  Professor  Guyot  in  Cambridge. 

Sunday  morning  I  attended  Reverend  Dr.  Ilawes' 
church.  Our  seat  is  in  the  gallery  at  the  extreme  of 
one  side.  I  could  see  every  motion  of  the  Reverend 
gentleman's  fingers  and  feet,  and  that  always  annoys 
me.  He  is,  moreover,  rather  an  awkward  man,  which 
made  it  all  the  worse.  Then  there  was  a  young  lady 
sitting  downstairs  with  a  bonnet  half  way  off  her 
head,  as  bonnets  are  nowadays,  and  the  top  of  her 
head  was  half  bald,  and  that  annoyed  me  too.  How 
ever,  I  got  along  very  well.  Dr.  Hawes  is  by  no 
means  an  eloquent  man,  but  he  is  earnest  and  practi 
cal,  and  I  have  no  doubt  sincere. 

This  evening  Miss  Crocker  had  the  girls  all  down  in 
the  parlor,  and  she  read  to  them  for  about  an  hour. 
I  was  amused  at  finding  them  gathered  around  me 
not  five  minutes  after  she  had  done  reading. 

FEBRUARY  14. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER  :  You  cannot  tell 
how  glad  I  was  to  receive  your  nice  long  letter  to 
night.  I  have  been  here  thirteen  days  and  have  re 
ceived  thirteen  letters  all  told,  but  not  one  of  them 


TEACHING  53 

gave  me  so  much  pleasure  as  yours,  the  last  and  best. 
I  go  down  to  school  at  half -past  nine  and  stay  till 
half-past  twelve.  There  are  four  series  of  classes,  but 
I  am  employed  during  only  three  of  them.  Conse 
quently  I  have  some  three-quarters  of  an  hour's  rest 
after  hearing  my  algebra,  which  comes  first.  Algebra 
is  so  familiar  to  me  that  I  do  not  study  it  at  all  out  of 
school.  My  next  recitation  is  a  class  in  Latin  Reader. 
On  this  I  spend,  perhaps  on  an  average,  fifteen  min 
utes  out  of  school.  Next  comes  a  class  in  geometry. 
This  I  need  to  study,  but  do  it  when  I  am  not  em 
ployed,  the  hour  after  algebra.  I  go  to  school  again 
at  half-past  two,  hear  a  class  in  spelling  for  ten  min 
utes,  then  have  a  class  in  Virgil.  This  I  have  taught 
so  much  that  I  study  it  but  little  myself,  say  from 
twenty  minutes  to  half  an  hour.  Then  I  have  a  class 
commencing  Latin,  which  of  course  requires  none  of 
my  time  out  of  school.  I  reach  home  anywhere  from 
four  to  half-past  four.  All  my  time  at  home  is  my 
own.  I  do  what  I  choose,  go  where  I  choose,  and 
when  I  choose.  I  have  not  opened  a  single  book  to 
study  (except  my  school  book)  since  I  came  here. 
My  reading  consists  mostly  of  the  "  Tribune,"  "In 
dependent,"  and  the  chance  papers  that  come  in  my 
way.  My  literary  efforts  consist  mostly  in  writing 
letters.  I  spend  a  good  deal  of  time,  in  fact,  on  my 
pocket  handkerchief,  which  really  begins  to  look  as 
though  it  might  some  day  be  finished.  I  do  not  go 
out  very  much,  because  it  is  so  cold.  When  the  warm 
weather  comes,  I  mean  to  take  much  exercise.  Now 
do  you  think  I  am  in  any  danger  of  injuring  myself 
from  over  mental  exertion  ? 

The  boarding-house  where  I  am  nsed  to  belong  to 
Miss  Strong,  who  was  at  the  head  of  this  Seminary 
till  her  death  last  summer. 


54       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

"  Do  the  girls  love  me  and  do  I  love  them?  "  My 
dear  and  "  excellent  mother,"  knowing  my  character 
istic  vanity,  I  wonder  you  should  give  me  such  a 
tempting  opportunity  to  display  it.  Do  they  love  me  ? 
Well,  I  don't  know,  but  I  think  they  rather  like  to  be 
around  me.  As  for  my  loving  them,  of  course  I  do 
not  love  them  so  much  as  I  did  the  girls  I  left  at  Ips 
wich.  I  do  not  expect  I  ever  shall  any  others,  but 
I  am  always  interested  in  my  own  pupils,  and  these 
are,  almost  every  single  one,  so  gentle,  kind,  polite, 
and  attentive,  I  could  scarcely  help  loving  them  some. 
I  like  the  school  better,  much  better  than  I  expected. 

FEBRUARY  20. 

Last  Saturday  Miss  Holbrook  invited  me  and  one 
or  two  of  the  young  ladies  out  to  drive.  We  went 
up  by  the  Orphan  Asylum  (Augusta  will  know 
where  that  is)  to  two  green-houses  which  we  visited. 
The  beautiful  array  of  roses,  heliotropes,  and  various 
other  plants  would  have  gladdened  your  eyes.  I 
send  you  a  leaf  of  geranium  to  gladden  your  nose. 
We  also  passed  the  Charter  Oak.  The  house  and 
grounds  on  which  it  stands  are  owned  and  occupied 
by  Mr.  Stuart,  brother  of  Mrs.  Phelps,  the  authoress 
of  "  Sunny  Side,"  "Peep  at  No.  5,"  etc.  The  drive 
was  very  pleasant.  To-night  there  is  to  be  what  the^ 
call  "The  Old  Folks'  Concert,"  which  I  think  you 
would  like  to  attend.  They  sing  all  old  tunes  such  as 
used  to  be  sung  perhaps  a  hundred  years  ago,  and 
such  as  were  in  vogue  when  you  were  young.  They 
are  sung  partly  by  old  people.  At  the  last  one  there 
were  several  old  ladies  on  the  stage.  These  concerts 
are  very  popular.  One  gentleman  came  clear  from 
Albany,  in  New  York,  to  attend  the  last  one.  He 


TEACHING  55 

said  he  went  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  and  paid  five 
dollars  to  hear  Jenny  Lind  sing,  and  was  glad  he  did 
it,  but  this  was  worth  more  than  that. 

FEBRUARY  29. 

Dr.  Bushnell's  name  you  have  probably  seen  in 
"•  The  Independent."  He  is  somewhat  different  in  his 
theological  views  from  the  rest  of  the  Orthodox  min 
isters,  and  he  has  been  talked  about  much,  particu 
larly  two  or  three  years  ago. 

My  dear  sister,  you  are  a  fine  woman,  a  capable 
woman  ;  you  have  talent  which  I  honestly  think  is 
more  and  more  developed  the  older  you  grow ;  but, 
my  dear,  why  will  you  distress  yourself  by  continued 
endeavors  to  make  yourself  equal  to  me?  Why  not 
do  as  well  as  you  are  capable  and  give  up  a  struggle 
which  must  be  fruitless.  I  should  not  dare  say  this 
if  many  a  broad  acre  did  not  stretch  between  us. 

Dr.  Nichols  from  Haverhill  came  to  Hartford  last 
Tuesday  to  deliver  a  course  of  lectures  before  the 
young  ladies.  He  tried  experiments  with  the  electric 
and  galvanic  apparatus,  air-pump,  etc.,  explained  the 
electric  telegraph — and,  by  the  way,  Aug.,  do  you 
not  remember  noticing  and  speaking  of  the  three  wires 
that  we  saw  all  along  the  road  last  summer?  These, 
he  says,  are  separate  telegraphs,  as  there  is  so  much 
business  done  that  one  wire  is  not  enough. 

MARCH  15. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Fanny  Goodale  yesterday  in 
which  she  says  :  "I  am  most  agreeably  disappointed 
in  your  cousin.  In  the  first  place,  she  is  not  more  than 
half  as  large  as  I  thought.  The  girls  like  her  very 
much.  Abby,  I  wonder  if  you  continue  to  grow  hand- 


56       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

some  as  fast  as  ever.  I  have  heard  more  remarks 
upon  your  beautiful  complexion  since  you  left  than  a 
few.  Flattery  is  beneath  either  of  us,  but  agreeable 
truth  may  be  safely  spoken  to  one  with  a  '  well  bal 
anced  mind '  like  your  own."  Speaking  of  Miss  Rob 
inson,  she  says  :  "I  am  glad  Ama  is  going  to  marry 
him.  He  is  such  a  fine  man  she  cannot  be  unhappy 
with  him,  it  seems  to  me." 

APRIL  10,   1854. 

Amanda  Ferry  was  going  to  call  at  a  Judge  Terry's 
and  wanted  me  to  accompany  her.  I  did  not  want  to, 
but  she  insisted  and  I  went.  Mrs.  Terry  was  not  at 
home,  so  we  sat  down  and  had  quite  a  pleasant  chat 
with  the  old  Judge.  After  a  while  a  gentleman  came 
in  whom  I  recognized  as  the  Rev.  Dr.  Walter  Clarke. 
I  had  heard  him  preach  once  or  twice.  He  married 
Judge  Terry's  daughter.  He  passed  through  the  room, 
but  soon  came  back  again,  and  then  Mr.  T.  intro 
duced  him  to  us.  He  came  and  sat  on  the  sofa  by 
me,  asked  me  if  I  had  a  pleasant  school,  and  then 
said  suddenly,  "  Can't  you  see  out  of  that  eye  at 
all  ? "  I  was  so  amazed  that  I  could  not  believe  I  had 
heard  him  right,  and  he  repeated  the  question.  I  was 
so  indignant  that  I  scarcely  knew  what  to  say,  but 
finally  said,  "  No,  sir."  I  think  he  might  have  seen 
that  I  thought  it  rather  strange,  for  he  instantly  ex 
plained  by  saying  that  he  was  in  the  same  condition, 
that  he  could  not  see  from  his  right  eye,  etc.,  and 
asked  me  if  I  had  noticed  it. 

The  "  reminiscences"  to  which  you  refer  are  by  no 
means  as  graphic  or  as  interesting  as  those  which  I 
wrote.  Mrs.  Cowles  omitted  a  great  deal  of  what  / 
consider  the  best  part,  though  of  course  she  did  not. 
The  beginning  is  all  left  out,  and  the  first  sentence, 


TEACHING  57 

as  it  stands  now,  is  extremely  flat  and  commonplace. 
I  trust  you  will  not  help  to  extend  the  fact  that  I  was 
its  author.  I  did  not  intend  to  have  the  date  given. 

Mr.  Cowles  writes:  "Last  eve  I  sent  }*ou  a  copy 
of  the  April  No.  of  the  '  Teacher.'  You  will  find 
your  article  in  it,  not  quite  so  '  large  as  life,'  but  I 
hope  you  will  think  it  quite  as  natural."  (I  don't  by 
any  means  think  so.  Mrs.  C.  has  not  put  anything  to 
it,  you. must  understand,  only  taken  away  from  it.) 
"  We  think  it  is  like  you,  and  we  like  the  thing  itself 
much.  Wife  says  it  reads  better  in  print  than  in 
manuscript,  and  I  say  to  you,  write  on  and  keep  your 
pen  busy.  With  practice  I  am  sure  you  can  become 
a  writer  with  a  name,  though  that,  indeed,  is  no  great 
motive,  only  as  it  is  a  power  for  good.  Please  at 
all  events  to  cultivate  the  gift  that  is  in  you.  You 
will  never  regret  it,  and  the  good  hand  and  counsel 
of  Him  who  is  over  us,  and  in  whose  eye  we  all 
must  act,  will  have  good,  and  happy,  and  useful  work 
for  you  one  day,  without  the  least  doubt.  I  only 
wished  I  had  helped  and  encouraged  you  yet  more 
when  you  were  with  us.  Can  you  take  that  wish  now 
for  an  encouragement? "  Afterwards  he  says,  "Let 
us  know  all  your  history  if  }7ou  will,  for  nothing  of 
yours  certainly  is  foreign  to  us," —  alluding,  you  will 
perceive,  to  a  sentence  in  the  last  part  of  my  "  arti 
cle."  Now,  mother,  I  have  hesitated  some  time  as  to 
whether  I  should  write  this  to  you  or  not,  because  I 
knew  you  would  think  so  much  of  it  and  fancy  I  was 
going  to  become  an  authoress  right  away ;  but,  my 
dear  parents,  I  beg  you  to  remember  that  to  be  a  good 
writer,  one  must  have  time  to  think  and  correct  and 
alter,  and  how  do  you  suppose  I  can  teach  all  day  and 
then  have  energy  for  mind  work  in  the  evening?  Be- 


58       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN    LETTERS 

sides,  you  must  remember  that  Mr.  Cowles  is  preju 
diced  in  my  favor  almost  as  much  as  you  are,  and 
rates  me  much  higher  than  I  deserve,  so  you  ueed  not 
look  for  the  "  Hartford  Transcript,"  or  any  other 
paper  as  long  as  I  teach.  You  ask  me  about  staying 
iu  Hartford.  If  I  intended  to  teach  anywhere  next 
winter,  I  should  probably  stay  here,  but  I  do  not  de 
sire  to  teach  anywhere.  It  is  nearly  four  years  I  have 
been  at  it  and  I  am  tired. 

APRIL  19,  1854. 

Last  Sunday  was  celebrated  by  Catholics  and  Epis 
copalians  as  Easter  Sunday,  the  anniversary  of  our 
Saviour's  resurrection.  Mrs.  Perkins  is  a  member  of 
the  Episcopal  Church  and  invited  me  to  go  there  with 
Miss  F.  I  was  very  glad  to  accept  the  invitation. 
There  was  a  very  beautiful  bouquet  in  front  of  the 
pulpit  larger  than  a  water  bucket,  which  is  not  indeed 
a  very  pretty  thing  to  compare  a  bouquet  to,  but  it 
answers  my  purpose  very  well.  I  would  not  by  any 
means  intrude  so  far  on  your  patience  as  to  give  you 
a  description  of  the  exercises,  only  saying  that  I  en 
joyed  them  more  than  any  since  I  have  been  in  Hart 
ford. 

MEKIDEN,  CONN.,  May  3,  1854. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER  :  I  received  your  letter,  and 
was  of  course  very  glad  of  it ;  also  glad  to  learn  that 
you  had  concluded  upon  a  place,  though  I  think  it 
was  well  for  you  to  travel  as  much  as  you  did.  In 
fact,  I  think  travelling  is  one  of  the  best  modes  of 
gaining  information  in  the  world,  and  to  me,  at  least, 
it  is  one  of  the  most  pleasant.  As  to  Louisville,  I  do 
not  know  whether  or  not  to  like  it,  knowing  but  little 
about  the  city.  I  do  not  feel  very  much  alarmed  on 
the  score  of  its  being  in  a  slave-holding  State.  I  trust 


TEACHING  59 

your  principles  are  too  well-founded  and  too  deeply- 
rooted,  to  be  very  seriously  altered  by  mere  proximity 
to  the  evil  and  crime  which  we  all  deplore.  I  do  not 
think,  moreover,  that  you  are  likely  to  be  in  circum 
stances  for  the  present  which  would  have  any  ten 
dency  to  make  you  connive  at  a  system  which  degrades 
labor.  I  expect  you  will  not  only  conserve  but  in 
crease  your  tendencies  to  "  Liberty  for  all."  I  think 
3'ou  will  have  a  fine  opportunity  for  observation, 
though  of  course  you  will  see  slavery  only  in  its  mod 
ified  aspects  —  where  liberty  and  slavery,  freedom  and 
despotism  grapple  in  such  a  hand-to-hand  struggle  as 
they  do  in  the  States  that  border  the  free  States,  you 
cannot  expect  such  developments  as  where  there  is 
the  blackness  of  darkness  unmitigated.  I  am  afraid 
you  are  somewhat  fatigued  by  my  long  letter,  yet  I 
desire  you  to  know  that  I,  for  one,  do  not  expect  an}7 
change  for  the  worse  in  your  principles.  If  you 
should  be  somewhat  qualified  in  regard  to  Spiritual 
ism,  I  should  be  glad,  not  that  I  would  wish  you  to 
disbelieve  in  the  agency  or  the  presence  of  spirits, 
perhaps  I  believe  it  not  less  firmly  than  you,  neither 
would  I  desire  you  to  pronounce  modern  Spiritualism 
all  a  humbug,  for  I  cannot  conceive  of  any  candid, 
reasonable  person  doing  so,  but  I  would  have  you 
more  cautious  in  building  up  theories,  in  deducing 
inferences  from  facts.  Our  knowledge  of  all  science, 
and  of  all  sciences,  is  very  imperfect,  and  particularly 
at  the  first  introduction  of  one  you  well  know  how 
little  truth  is  often  mixed  with  how  much  falsehood. 
I  trust  we  shall  one  day  be  so  happy  as  to  see  face 
to  face,  Him  whom  we  now  see  only  through  a  glass 
darkly. 

I  was  somewhat  alarmed  about  your  being  in  Ken- 


60       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

tucky  on  account  of  the  cholera,  but  I  think  it  is 
scarcely  worth  while  to  be  anxious  about  that.  I  hope 
you  will  take  all  care  to  preserve  your  valuable  health, 
and  yon  are  none  the  less  in  the  hands  of  our  Father 
there  than  here.  Even  death  itself  should  not  be  a 
terror  to  us  who  profess  to  have  laid  hold  on  eternal 
life.  I  hope  you  will  not  be  so  occupied  in  the  busi 
ness  of  life  as  to  neglect  moral  or  mental  improve 
ment.  There  is  so  much  intensity  in  Western  life  that 
I  think  yon  are  somewhat  in  danger  of  being  hurried 
down  the  current,  and  forgetting  that  "  it  is  not  all 
of  life  to  live."  Allow  me  also  to  suggest  that  you 
pay  a  closer  attention  to  the  "  small,  sweet  courtesies 
of  life."  No  man  is  any  the  less  manly  for  being 
gentle  and  polite  ;  not  that  I  mean  to  insinuate  that 
you  are  ever  impolite ;  above  all  let  me  entreat  you 
never  to  indulge  in  that  most  filthy,  disgusting,  intol 
erable,  and  abominable  haliit  of  spitting.  There  is 
no  need  of  it  —  it  is  only  a  habit,  and  worthy  of 
none  who  claim  a  rank  above  the  savage,  though  I 
dare  say  a  savage  never  did  such  a  thing  in  his  life. 
There  is  a  work  just  published  that  I  think  you  would 
like.  I  refer  to  Hugh  Miller's  "Autobiography."  He 
was  a  workingman,  a  stone-cutter,  and  now  ranks 
high  in  the  literary  and  scientific  world.  One  thing 
more,  I  hope  you  will  not  only  cultivate  your  morals 
and  your  manners,  but  also  your  beard,  that  you  will 
not  every  day,  or  every  other  day,  defy  Nature,  but 
adorn  your  face  with  that  most  manly  and  noble  of 
all  ornaments, —  you  understand  what  I  mean.  There 
has  been  a  great  deal  of  excitement  in  Hartford.  The 
water  of  the  Connecticut  comes  nearly  to  the  foot  of 
the  garden  where  we  live  now.  There  are  several 
streets  navigable  from  one  end  to  the  other.  You 


TEACHING  61 

can  just  see  the  tops  of  the  posts  to  which  horses  are 
tied.  The  street  lanterns  are  above  water.  No  mails 
had  been  received  yesterday  from  the  north.  I  came 
to  Meriden  yesterday,  where  I  am  spending  my  time 
very  pleasantly.  My  friend,  Miss  Feny,  is  associated 
with  Miss  Swift,  and  both  with  Governor  Slade,  who 
sends  out  teachers  twice  a  year  to  the  West.  These 
teachers,  twenty  or  more  of  them,  come  to  Hartford 
and  stay  six  weeks,  and  receive  lessons  in  drawing, 
etc.,  and  then  Governor  Slade  takes  them  out. 

MAY  10,  1854. 

I  have  adopted  the  plan  of  going  to  bed  at  nine 
and  rising  at  five,  in  order  that  I  may  use  my  eyes  by 
daylight  and  rest  them  at  night.  Hartford  is  very 
beautiful  now,  wrapped  in  green.  Our  Seminary  is 
behind  some  shade  trees.  My  unknown  friend  con 
tinues  to  favor  me  with  wild  flowers  —  another  little 
bouquet  was  brought  to  the  door  for  me  last  night, 
just  as  pretty  as  it  could  be.  They  now  adorn  my 
table.  Miss  C.  and  I  went  to  a  shoemaker's  to-day 
and  bought  patterns  for  which  we  paid  ninepence,  and 
are  going  to  try  some  shoes  for  ourselves.  It  is  an 
experiment,  and  I  don't  know  how  we  shall  succeed. 

I  was  gladdened  yesterday  by  the  sight  of  your 
handwriting  on  my  return  from  Meriden,  where  I  have 
been  spending  the  past  week  very  pleasantly.  My 
vacation  commenced  a  week  ago  last  Friday  noon.  I 
remained  in  Hartford  a  few  days,  partly  to  be  with  my 
friend,  Miss  Ferry,  and  partly  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  her  friend,  Mr.  Hale,  from  New  York.  I 
also  had  the  pleasure  of  being  here  during  "  the 
flood,"  and  really  do  not  regret  it,  as  it  may  be  some 
time  before  I  ever  again  see  boats  navigating  streets 
from  end  to  end. 


62       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

I  send  the  enclosed  ten  dollars  to  Felt.  Miss 
Crocker  has  paid  me,  so  that  I  do  not  need  it,  and  if 
I  keep  it  I  shall  be  sure  to  spend  it,  so  I  return  it  and 
shall  feel  better  prepared  to  call  again  in  case  of 
necessity.  Tell  Felt  I  am  just  as  grateful  for  his 
kindness  as  if  I  had  used  it.  My  brothers  are  the 
best  in  the  world,  not  to  mention  my  sisters. 

I  was  surprised  to  hear  of  Charlotte  Waterman's 
death,  though  I  knew  she  was  sick.  I  saw  her  the 
day  I  came  from  Ipswich  to  Hartford.  In  such  a 
death  as  hers  there  can  be  no  bitterness,  for  she  was 
always  ready  —  and  her  rest  shall  be  glorious. 

Friday  evening,  May  19.  My  boots  are  nearly 
finished,  that  is,  the  part  I  am  to  do.  I  am  quite 
pleased  with  them,  only  I  am  afraid  they  will  be  too 
large  or  too  small,  I  cannot  tell  which.  He  told  me 
to  allow  for  seams,  but  I  don't  know  whether  he  meant 
in  cutting  or  sewing.  I  am  quite  in  love  with  city 
life.  It  is  so  convenient.  You  can  get  anything  you 
want  without  the  trouble  of  going  to  Salem  after  it. 
A  fast  next  Friday  on  account  of  the  Nebraska  Bill. 
I  am  rejoiced  to  know  that  my  minister  dares  to  open 
his  mouth  against  this  most  enormous  iniquity  in  high 
places.  To-morrow  is  the  day  when  the  question  is 
to  be  decided,  and  I  greatly  fear  that  I  shall  blush  for 
the  fallen  glory  of  my  country.  If  the  Nebraska  Bill 
does  pass,  I  believe  I  would  almost  as  soon  have  the 
Union  broken,  yea,  rather,  than  to  have  the  North 
let  the  South  rule  and  triumph  over  it.  We  shall 
see ! 

JUNE  5,  1(S54. 

I  took  a  class  in  Sabbath  School  last  Sunday.  It 
consists  of  three  little  boys  from  the  Orphan  Asylum. 
I  took  occasion  to  give  them  a  little  information  and 


TEACHING  G3 

instruction  touching  the  Nebraska  Bill,  etc.,  etc. 
They  were  quite  valorous.  One  of  them  said  he  was 
going  to  be  a  soldier.  The  other  two  thought  they 
should  be  farmers.  I  asked  one  of  them  from  whom 
we  all  descended  ;  he  replied  "  Adam."  Another  one 
cried  out  "  Eve  too"  —  which  I  was  not  disposed  to 
gainsay.  My  term  closes  three  weeks  from  to-day. 
Mrs.  Perkins  seemed  very  glad  to  see  me,  urged  rne 
to  stay  to  tea  and  said  Mr.  Perkins  would  go  home 
with  me,  but  as  I  am  not  used  to  suppers,  I  thought 
I  would  not.  She  took  rne  out  in  the  garden  and  cut 
me  a  pretty  little  bouquet,  asked  me  to  call  often  and 
be  sure  and  come  next  week  and  she  will  make  me  a 
"  nosegay"  of  roses,  of  which  she  has  more  than  fifty 
kinds  in  her  garden.  1  had  my  silk  dress  on,  which 
is  too  long,  and  she  told  me  I  must  not  wear  it  so, 
and  wanted  me  to  bring  it  down  to  her  house  and  she 
would  help  rue  to  take  it  up  round  the  waist.  I  men 
tion  these  little  things  that  you  may  see  how  kind  she 
is.  In  fact,  almost  everybody  is  kind  to  me.  I  don't 
know  whether  it  is  because  they  think  I  am  a  poor 
weak  creature  without  sense  enough  to  take  care  of 
myself,  or  for  some  other  reason. 

JUNE  9,  1854. 

A  few  days  ago  two  or  three  carriage  loads  of  us 
took  a  drive  to  Wadsworth  mountain,  about  seven  or 
eight  miles  from  the  city.  On  the  mountain  is  a  tower 
nearly  a  hundred  feet  high,  and  from  the  top  can  be 
seen  one  of  the  most  charming  landscapes  in  the 
world,  the  Farmingtou  valley  on  the  one  side,  the 
Connecticut  valley  on  the  other.  The  river  can  be 
traced  all  along  its  beautiful  winding  way  by  the  trees 
that  line  its  banks.  The  land  is  highly  cultivated, 


64       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

and  the  scenery  rich  and  picturesque  beyond  descrip 
tion.  Mt.  Holyoke  can  be  seen  in  the  dim  distance. 
A  little  lake  lies  quietly  almost  on  the  very  mountain 
top,  calm  as  if  its  fair  bosom  was  never  ruffled  by  the 
storm  king's  breath,  sheltered  on  every  side  by  the 
great  forest  trees  beneath  whose  shade,  and  through 
whose  paths,  impassable  to  us,  the  Indian  lias  doubt 
less  often  marched  with  his  tomahawk  and  war-club. 
On  the  shore  of  the  lake  is  a  boat-house,  where  we 
carried  our  refreshments  and  strengthened  ourselves 
after  our  five  hours'  wandering.  We  started  about 
half-past  three  and  reached  home  soon  after  nine. 

I  wish  you  would  once  in  a  while  send  me  a  Ken 
tucky  paper  —  Pro-slavery  if  possible  —  I  think  it  is 
well  to  look  at  both  sides  of  the  question.  My  very 
soul  has  been  stirred  within  me  the  last  few  months 
by  that  most  unmanly,  demoniac  Nebraska  Bill.  I 
cannot  believe  that  men  who  have  trodden  our  free 
Puritan  soil,  and  breathed  our  free  mountain  air,  can 
suffer  themselves  to  become  the  minions  of  slavery. 
It  is  bad  enough  for  the  South  to  "  roll  it  as  a  sweet 
morsel  under  her  tongue,"  but  there  are  mitigating 
circumstances  in  her  case.  The  enormity  cannot 
strike  so  forcibly  those  who  have  grown  up  under  its 
influence,  but  that  men  who  have  never  been  sur 
rounded  by  any  but  free  institutions  should  defend 
this  monster  iniquity  is  indeed  incomprehensible ! 
"In  their  proper  position  "  indeed  !  If  the  life,  the 
energy,  the  hope  have  been  crushed  out  of  them  by 
long  years  of  bondage,  is  that  to  be  thrown  in  their 
face  ?  The  very  fact  that  they  are  happy  is  the  most 
mournful  comment.  How  degraded  must  a  man  be 
before  he  can  be  happy  in  a  life  which  offers  to  him 
nothing  but  a  subservience  to  the  will  of  another, 


TEACHING  65 

which  takes  from  him  the  God-given  right  to  his  own 
conscience,  and  places  him  in  the  power  of  another. 
It  is  a  bitter  mocker}* !  worthy  of  Satan  himself.  I 
have  no  doubt  that,  as  a  class,  the  slaves  are  far  be 
low  the  white  man,  but  let  the  case  be  changed,  let 
the  white  man  have  occupied  the  place  which  the 
upgro  has  done  for  centuries,  and  I  have  as  little  doubt 
that  he  too  would  be  considered  as  occupying  his 
"'proper  position."  The  early  history  of  the  world 
shows  that  Africa  was  prolific  of  great  men. 

Before  America  was  ever  heard  of,  Africa  was  civ 
ilized.  Her  statesmen,  her  generals,  her  bishops,  her 
libraries  were  renowned  over  the  then  known  world, 
and  because  this  fallen  queen  now  mourns  in  sack 
cloth  and  ashes,  little  souls  insult  her  and  declare  her 
incapable  of  being  exalted.  I  believe  the  time  will 
yet  come  when  she  will  again  sit  among  princes, 
'•  clothed  and  in  her  right  mind,"  and  glorious  in  maj 
esty.  God  speed  the  day  !  Certainly  our  "  free  Re 
public  "  seems  not  disposed  to  speed  it.  I  believe  we 
have  the  sole  honor  of  standing  before  the  world  as 
the  champions  of  slavery  and  defenders  of  liberty.  I 
have  no  patience  when  I  think  of  it.  Even  for  the 
Boston  riots  I  cannot  be  so  sorry  as  I  suppose  I 
ought.  I  lament  the  loss  of  life.  I  lament  the  law 
lessness  of  mobs,  nor  do  I  deem  it  efficient,  but  whose 
fault  is  it  that  the  passions  of  our  steady  and  quiet 
people  have  been  wrought  to  frenzy  ?  Who  is  it 
that  has  stirred  up  this  agitation  ?  Not  the  abolition 
ists  certainly,  and  after  all  I  cannot  but  hope  that  out 
of  this  present  evil  the  great  God  is  working  his  own 
good  purposes,  that  the  crisis  has  at  last  come,  and 
that  the  giant  of  the  North  will  shake  off  now  the 
chaius  which  have  so  long  bound  him,  and  rise  up  in 


66       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

the  might  of  his  conscious  strength,  saying  to  this 
terrible  scourge,  "Thus  far  shalt  thou  go  and  no  far 
ther."  I  am  afraid  I  have  tired  you,  but  really  when 
I  once  begin  to  talk  about  it,  I  don't  know  when  to 
stop. 

JUNK  10. 

As  our  great  orator  said,  "  Let  me  recur  to  pleas 
ing  recollections."  Last  Wednesday  night  I  went  to 
a  little  musical  party  at  a  Dr.  Jackson's.  I  have  an 
invitation  to  attend  a  wedding  reception  next  Wed 
nesday,  but  I  scarcely  think  I  shall  go.  I  have  turned 
my  attention  to  manufacture  lately,  and  have  cut  out 
and  sewed  a  pair  of  gaiter  boots  of  brown  linen.  I 
did  everything  myself  except  the  soling,  and  succeeded 
admirably.  My  term  closes  on  the  twenty-ninth  of 
June.  I  do  not  intend  to  return  here.  Do  you  take 
the  "  Tribune  "?  I  wish  you  would.  I  think  it  a  most 
excellent  paper  —  a  little  ultra  perhaps  in  some 
things,  but  right  on  the  two  great  questions  of  the 
day,  slavery  and  temperance. 

My  nose  has  formed  a  habit  of  bleeding  lately,  once 
in  a  while,  and  I  dare  say  it  does  me  good  by  remov 
ing  the  surplus  blood  from  my  head.  Write  me  as 
soon  as  you  have  time,  and  tell  me  as  much  as  you 
choose  to  have  me  know  of  your  business  and  your 
friends. 

May  the  good  hand  of  our  Father  guide  you  in  the 
way  which  He  shall  choose,  grant  you  a  life  of  use 
fulness  and  happiness  in  this  world,  and  fit  you  for 
a  more  glorious  lot  in  His  more  immediate  presence 
whenever  it  shall  be  His  will  to  call  you  to  Himself. 
To  those  who  humbly  trust  and  believe  in  a  Redeemer 
and  another  world,  death  should  have  little  terror.  It 
is  not  death,  but  a  birth  into  a  higher  and  holier  state 
of  existence. 


TEACHING  67 

JUNE  20. 

Would  you  go  back  to  Hartford  next  term,  or  would 
you  not?  I  want  advice  on  this  point.  Let  me  have 
the  united  wisdom  of  the  family.  Miss  Crocker 
never  said  anything  to  me  about  returning  till  last 
night,  when  she  urged  me  quite  strongly  to  return, 
expresses  herself  more  than  satisfied,  says  the  gills 
are  anxious  to  have  me  return,  besides  many  other 
pleasant  things  too  numerous  to  mention.  She  says 
if  I  will  return,  I  need  teach  nothing  but  Latin.  I 
told  her  I  would  not  decide  definitely  till  I  had  heard 
from  home. 

AUGUST,  Friday,  4,  1854. 

Yesterday  Mother  A.  and  I  went  to  Danvers. 
Last  week  Monday,  I  went  to  Salem,  to  visit  at  Mr. 
Fox  Worcester's,  with  whose  daughter  I  am  ac 
quainted.  Spent  one  day  and  night  there,  and  then 
went  over  to  South  Salem,  and  spent  a  night  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  D.  B.  Brooks,  the  book-seller,  with  my 
friend  Amanda  Ferry,  one  of  my  warmest  friends. 
She  is  engaged  to  a  gentleman  of  New  York. 

Last  Saturday  mother  carried  me  over  to  Ipswich, 
to  make  a  short  visit.  I  found  the  girls  at  the  Sem 
inary  busy  as  bees  in  making  mottoes  and  wreaths  of 
evergreen  to  adorn  the  old  Seminary  for  the  ensuing 
Monday  and  Tuesday  examination  days.  Augusta 
and  I  have  made  our  arrangements  to  go  to  Provi 
dence,  R.I.,  next  Monday  to  stay  about  a  week.  The 
United  States  General  Teachers'  Association  meet 
there.  You  know  we  went  to  one  last  summer  in 
New  Haven.  I  have  no  place  in  view  to  teach  at 
present.  If  none  present  itself  by  next  spring,  I 
shall  probably  turn  my  attention  westward. 


68       ftAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

AUGUST  31,   18f>4. 

You  remember  I  told  you  about  going  to  Provi 
dence  a  few  weeks  ago.  There  are  a  few  little  items 
connected  with  that  trip  which  you  will  perhaps  be 
interested  to  know.  As  we  were  getting  into  the 
cars  at  Hamilton,  we  met  a  gentleman  coming  out. 
I  said  to  A.  that  he  looked  like  Mr.  Curtis,  of  the 
High  School,  Hartford.  I  had  seen  him,  but  was  not 
acquainted.  We  went  on  to  Boston,  saw  F.,  did 
some  shopping,  and  finally  went  to  the  Boston  and 
Providence  depot,  and  were  talking  away,  when  some 
one  touched  me.  I  turned  and  saw  F.  with  this 
gentleman,  whom  he  introduced  as  Mr.  Curtis,  of 
Hartford.  He  told  me  that  when  he  met  me  in  Ham 
ilton  he  thought  I  might  be  the  one  he  wanted  to  see. 
He  asked  Mr.  R.  where  I  lived  and  was  told  I  hud 
just  gone  on  in  the  cars.  They  told  him  F's  address, 
and  he  took  the  next  train,  went  to  F.,  and  they  both 
jumped  into  a  coach  and  drove  post-haste  to  the 
depot  where  they  found  me.  I  saw  him  half  an  hour 
or  so  there,  and  several  times  afterwards,  and  the 
result  is  that  next  Saturday  I  am  to  go  to  Hartford, 
to  teach  in  his  school.  So  your  next  letter  to  me 
must  be  directed  to  Hartford,  but  not  to  the  Female 
Seminary. 

I  have  been  riding  horseback  this  vacation,  and 
went  down  to  the  post-office  alone  yesterday.  It  is 
the  first  time  I  have  ventured  into  the  public  walks 
of  life,  and  I  like  so  much  that  I  think  I  shall  go  on. 
Augusta  went  to  Beverly,  horseback,  the  morning 
that  father  went  in  the  chaise  to  Salem.  A.  and  I 
went  out  making  calls  a  few  days  ago.  Intended  to 
call  on  Mrs.  G.  A.,  Jr.,  but,  on  inquiring,  found  she 
was  not  at  home.  As  the  conversation  took  place 


TEACHING  69 

with  Mr.  A.  peeping  on  one  side  under  a  suspended 
ox  and  Miss  D.  on  the  other  it  was  of  a  commenda 
ble  brevity.  Miss  S.  A.  we  had  the  pleasure  of  find 
ing  at  home.  She  was  engaged  in  crayon  drawing. 

HARTFORD,  September  4,  1854. 
MY  DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER  :  Now  how  you  do 
want  to  know  where  I  am,  and  how  I  am.  Let  me 
begin  at  the  beginning,  and  first  for  my  health.  I 
think  I  was  never  so  tired  in  my  life  as  I  was  when 
I  reached  Hartford,  at  about  eight  o'clock,  feeling  as 
if  I  would  as  soon  lose  my  baggage  as  go  to  look  for 
it.  As  I  was  going  into  the  ladies'  room,  I  saw  Mr. 
Curtis  walking  very  leisurely  along,  and  examining 
the  cars  very  closely.  I  never  was  before,  and  never 
shall  be  again,  so  glad  to  see  him.  We  drove  directly 
to  my  boarding-place  very  near  where  I  was,  and  I 
was  introduced  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  O.,  who  seem  to  be 
exceedingly  pleasant  people,  somewhat  in  years,  and 
very  fine  looking.  They  wished  me  to  take  supper, 
but  all  I  wanted  was  a  place  to  lie  down,  and  so  Mrs. 
O.  showed  me  to  my  chamber.  I  am  the  sole  occu 
pant,  straw  carpet,  white  quilt,  toilet  table  with  white 
covering,  washstand  do.,  a  bureau  with  four  drawers 
all  to  myself,  and  fringed  white  cover,  a  closet,  a 
chair,  an  ottoman,  a  nice  lounge  and  pillow,  and 
gas,  white  muslin  curtains,  etc.,  —  there,  didn't  I  tell 
you  I  wanted  a  sofa  and  gas,  and  you  thought 
rather  foolishly  ?  I  must  not  forget  to  mention  a  most 
cunning  little  alarum  clock,  also  a  few  pictures.  I 
shall  let  my  own  clock  stay  in  the  trunk,  I  wish  now 
I  had  not  brought  it.  I  thought,  when  I  was  in  bed 
Saturday  night,  I  wished  you  could  know  exactly 
where  I  was  and  Low  I  felt.  I  did  not  sleep  much 


70       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

and  of  course  was  not  particularly  brilliant,  but  last 
night  I  made  up  for  it  all  and  feel  this  morning  quite 
well.  I  have  plenty  of  water,  and  crash  and  other 
towels  at  my  disposal. 

HARTFORD,  September  5,  185-1. 
I  enclosed  my  letter  yesterday  morning,  and  with 
some  trepidation  prepared  for  school.  I  did  not  go 
till  about  half-past  nine.  Rung  the  bell  at  the  school 
door  and  inquired  for  Mr.  Curtis.  A  lady  came  and 
said  she  would  show  me  to  the  dressing-room,  where 
I  took  off  my  bonnet  and  shawl  and  then  went  up 
stairs.  "Aunty's  many  boys  and  girls"  were  all 
assembled  in  formidable  array,  but  I  was  very  much 
pleased  indeed  with  the  aspect  of  the  scholars.  The 
other  assistant  is  very  precise,  and  proper,  and  judic 
ious,  and  good,  and  altogether  a  very  exemplary  per 
son.  I  trust  we  shall  harmonize  admirably,  being 
entirely  unlike  each  other.  Mr.  Capron  is  very  good- 
looking,  what  there  is  of  him,  but  he  is  small,  wears 
whiskers  and  glasses.  I  don't  know  much  about  him 
yet,  of  course.  Miss  Hooker  is  the  old  teacher  who 
is  staying  here  a  week.  I  like  her  very  much  indeed, 
and  wish  she  were  going  to  stay.  We  did  not  have 
any  recitations,  the  time  being  occupied  in  arranging 
and  organizing.  I  am  to  have  three  classes  in  Gram 
mar,  one  in  History,  and  two  in  Latin.  Most  of  last 
evening  I  spent  lying  on  the  lounge  —  now  trembling 
at  the  thought  of  my  next  day's  recitations,  now 
laughing  at  the  mathematical  and  correct  assistant, 
now  wondering  how  Mr.  Curtis  will  turn  out,  and  so 
on  in  a  variety  of  equally  interesting  and  important 
ruminations.  The  school-room  is  a  particularly  large, 
cool,  and  airy  room,  and  everything  about  the  building 


TEACHING  71 

seems  convenient  and  comfortable,  and  as  if  people 
were  interested  and  spent  their  money  freely.  My 
health  is,  I  think,  perfectly  reestablished,  only  this 
excessively  debilitating  weather  does  not  make  me 
feel  very  energetic. 

SEPTEMBER  7. 

If  I  survive  till  next  Monday,  I  think  you  may 
safely  conclude  that  I  shall  live  out  my  day  and 
generation.  It  is  warm,  warmer,  warmest  —  it  is  hot, 
hotter,  hottest.  I  am  evaporating  as  fast  as  possible. 
I  have  not  been  to  the  post-office  since  I  came  here, 
and  have  not  written  to  anybody  but  you.  It  has 
been  so  hot  that  I  could  not.  The  excitement  of  the 
school  has  been  enough  without  any  extra  labor  — 
good-by. 

SEPTEMBER  15. 

To  go  from  Miss  Crocker  to  him  is  like  going  from 
—  well,  I  don't  exactly  know  what  it  is  like — it  is 
going  from  one  who  ignores  your  existence  to  one 
who  feels  that  you  are  worth  at  least  a  three-cent 
piece.  My  only  trouble  is  that  I  know  I  shall  not  be 
what  he  expects  me.  He  seems  to  look  upon  me  as 
if  sent  directly  from  Heaven,  but  don't  pray  say  this 
to  anybody,  because  it  would  sound  so  silly.  I  am 
sure  he  thinks  I  am  going  to  be  and  do  a  great  deal 
more  than  I  am.  However,  I  shall  certainly  do  my 
best.  I  will,  however,  just  tell  you  that  my  principal 
said  to  me  to-night  after  I  had  been  helping  make  out 
his  roll-books,  that  he  wished  he  could  be  of  as  much 
worth  to  me  as  he  foresaw  I  was  going  to  be  to  him. 
I  am  exceedingly  sorry  that  I  was  not  present  last 
evening,  as  the  subject  of  slavery  was  discussed  with 
some  warmth  —  lasting  till  half-past  eleven. 


72       t^AIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

OCTOBER  6. 

I  am  low-spirited  to-night,  lower  than  the  Con 
necticut  river  before  the  rains  came,  lower  than  Frank 
Pierce  when  he  was  signing  the  Nebraska  Bill,  lower 
than  an  Englishman  in  November,  shockingly,  gloom 
ily,  desperately  low-spirited.  I  dare  say  this  you 
will  consider  the  very  worst  of  reasons  for  writing  to 
you  who  have  such  a  penchant  for  happy  faces ;  never 
theless  because  my  thoughts  turn  yearningly  to  you- 
ward,  and  because  I  make  a  point  of  yielding  to  my 
moods  and  tenses,  here  I  um.  Now  lest  you  think  I 
am  growing  sentimental,  let  me  tell  you  of  the  disas 
ters  that  have  been  heaped  upon  my  devoted  head, 
and  see  if  they  are  not  enough  to  make  "  L'  Allegro  " 
himself  low-spirited.  In  the  first  place  I  tumbled  down 
stairs  and  broke  my  neck  a  week  ago  to-day,  or  as 
that  is  rather  a  bold  assertion,  considering  I  am  not 
employing  an  amanuensis,  I  might  modify  it  some 
what  by  saying  that  it  was  not  my  neck  that  was 
broken  but  my  foot,  and  that  was  not  broken,  I  hope, 
but  sprained.  In  my  riotous  joy  at  being  let  out  from 
school,  I  always  jump  over  the  last  three  stairs  or 
so  at  the  High  School.  This  time,  being  especially 
"glorious,"  as  Burns  says,  I  forget  that  the  elasticity 
of  my  soul  might  not  have  communicated  itself  to  my 
soles;  I  bounded  over  from  five  to  fifteen  —  I  have 
forgotten  the  number  exactly  —  and  instead  of  com 
ing  down  like  a  cat  as  I  ought,  on  both  feet,  the  whole 
force  was  concentred  in  one,  which  very  naturally 
gave  way,  consequently  for  several  days  I  could  not 
walk  a  step,  and  even  now  my  gait  is  a  cross  between 
a  shuffle  and  a  hop.  All  this  time  I  have  loco-mo  ted 
with  every  bone,  muscle,  fibre,  joint,  nerve,  and 
sinew  in  my  body  except  the  right  ones,  till  I  am  all  un- 


TEACHING  73 

hinged,  unjointed,  unoiled,  and  in  a  snappy,  squeaky, 
creaky  condition  pitiable  to  behold.  Secondly,  my 
under  lip,  in  a  fit  of  disgust  at  the  course  things  were 
taking,  began  to  pout  yesterday  in  the  most  approved 
style,  and  after  increasing  to  about  six  times  its  usual 
size  is  energetically  blossoming  out  a  cold-sore.  This 
you  know  always  imparts  a  very  decided  and  agree 
able  tone  to  one's  physiognomy.  Thirdly,  I  have 
and  have  had  all  day  and  a  part  of  yesterday,  a 
ranting,  rollicking,  raving,  raging  toothache,  a  cease 
less,  merciless,  inexorable  thump,  thump,  thump. 
Now  without  going  farther  into  the  detail  of  my  dis 
tresses,  have  not  I  made  out  a  case?  And  do  you 
wonder  that  "  Life  is  as  tedious  as  a  twice-told 
tale  "  ?  Oh  !  for  a  dentist,  yet  I  don't  know  that  he 
could  give  me  any  relief,  for  two  have  made  a  des 
perate  assault  on  my  poor  tooth  before,  and  been 
obliged  to  raise  the  siege.  Don't  wonder  if  my 
similies  smack  of  battle,  for  I  have  a  class  of  loyal 
boys  who  wax  enthusiastic  every  day  over  Yankee 
prowess  and  British  pusillanimity,  as  displa}7ed  in  our 
impartial  American  histories.  I  have  studied  about 
wars  and  rumors  of  wars,  till  I  have  become  quite 
pugilistic  myself.  Did  you  ever  teach  boys?  I  can 
not  tell  you  how  strange  it  seemed  to  me  at  first. 
Great  burly  fellows  ;  they  poured  into  the  recitation 
room  the  first  day,  coming  down  upon  me  like  a 
seventy-four-gun  ship  till  I  almost  gasped  for  breath. 
They  frightened  me  out  of  my  senses.  I  walked 
about  in  a  dream  the  first  week.  They  seemed  so 
like  men.  Every  time  one  of  them  rose  to  answer 
me,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  was  going  to  make  a 
speech.  For  a  little  while  I  thought  I  had  mistaken 
my  calling  and  looked  forward  to  Thanksgiving  with 


74       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

inexpressible  longings,  but  I  am  now  fain  to  say  that 
these  boys  have  diminished  very  perceptibly  in  size 
and  numbers  and,  taken  together,  are  really  a  very 
gentlemanly  set,  though  I  find  them  in  their  classes 
much  more  restless  than  girls,  or  perhaps  it  is  be 
cause  when  they  do  move  they  make  more  noise  about 
it  than  girls.  The  high  school  house  is  a  fine  large 
three-story  brick  building,  classical  department  on 
the  first  floor,  general  assembly  room  on  the  second, 
gymnasium  on  the  third,  laboratory,  dressing-rooms, 
etc.,  in  the  basement.  Everything  is  entirely  different 
from  any  private  school  I  was  ever  in,  though  I  can 
not  tell  the  reason  why.  There  seems  to  be  much 
more  machinery.  There  are  five  teachers,  three 
gentlemen,  one  lady,  and  Abby  Dodge,  all  excellent 
in  their  way.  Did  you  know  that  the  teachers  have 
to  be  examined  ?  What  an  idea  !  They  thought  they 
were  going  to  examine  me,  but  they  didn't.  I  told 
Mr.  Curtis  in  Boston  that  I  would  not  be  examined. 
I  repeated  it  in  Hartford  with  an  emphasis.  He 
called  with  the  other  teacher  at  my  boarding-house, 
was  to  take  us  both  to  the  "  Fathers  of  the  School  " 
to  be  tested,  analyzed,  twenty-five  per  cent.  Arith 
metic,  fifteen  ditto  Geography,  etc.,  bottled  up,  labelled 
and  prepared  for  use.  I  protested.  He  spent  half 
an  hour  in  reasoning  and  entreating.  I  was  con 
vinced  by  his  argument  and  moved  by  his  eloquence, 
but  at  the  end  of  all  remained  in  statit  quo  ante  helium 
and  parried  all  his  shafts  with  the  clear  simple  forcible 
English  declaration,  "  I  won't  go."  So  I  didn't  go, 
so  he  went  without  me,  so  the  committee  did  not  have 
the  pleasure  of  dissecting  me,  so  it  is  laid  down  as  a 
law  for  all  future  teachers,  that  if  they  prefer  to  be 
examined  by  their  classes,  or  in  their  classes,  they 


TEACHING  75 

can.  How  grateful  ought  all  my  successors  to  be  to 
me  !  Do  you  think  I  did  wrong?  I  did  not  parry  or 
evade  anything.  I  told  him  I  was  willing  to  suffer 
the  penalty  of  the  law,  to  go  home  the  first  morning, 
or  I  could  be  hung  if  indispensable,  but  that  one 
solitary  thing  I  could  not,  should  not,  and  would  not 
do.  I  was  quite  willing  they  should  come  in  and 
hear  my  recitations  every  hour  in  the  day,  for  every 
day  in  the  week.  "  Anyway,"  I  have  not  yet  repented, 
and  would  do  just  so  again. 

Mrs.  Cowles  —  what  a  loss  you,  and  indeed  all  of 
us,  have  sustained  in  dear  Celia's  death.  I  cannot 
tell  you  how  much  I  have  thought  of  you.  I  cannot 
and  do  not  wish  to  think  of  her  as  dead.  It  seems 
to  me  I  shall  always  be  better  for  having  known  her, 
at  least  I  shall  have  more  confidence  in  human  good 
ness.  Sometimes  I  am  afraid  I  did  wrong  in  leaving 
you,  but  you  don't  think  so,  do  you  ?  And  if  all  my 
anxieties  are  needless,  it  will  be — well,  funn}',  to 
say  the  least.  Notwithstanding  all  my,  —  everything 
in  short,  —  do  believe  that  I  am  not  ungrateful  for  the 
kindness  of  years,  —  words  do  not  trip  like  nimble 
servitors  to  do  my  will,  but  I  none  the  less  remember 
the  past  and  shall  bear  it  in  my  heart  forever.  I 
have  such  a  cosy  little  room  all  by  myself.  I  should 
like  to  have  a  "  nice  "  chat  with  you  in  it  this  evening. 

HARTFORD,  CT.,  October  21,  1854. 
I  wentchestnuttingwith  a  party  last  Saturday,  drove 
someseveu  or  eight  miles  out  of  town.  Did  not  get  a 
great  many  chestnuts,  but  had  a  grand  time.  The 
men  built  a  fire  and  made  a  great  kettle  full  of  coffee 
in  the  woods.  The  ladies  spread  a  tablecloth  and  we 
had  a  sumptuous  dinner.  I  went  part  of  the  way  in 


76       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

the  carriage  of  Mr.  Gillette,  the  new  Member  of  Con 
gress  from  Connecticut,  with  himself  and  wife,  though 
I  did  not  know  at  the  time  that  he  was  the  M.C.  I 
do  not  think  I  am  in  school  any  more  hours  than  is 
customary.  At  Ipswich  I  used  generally  to  go  down 
at  eight  A.M.,  and  stayed  as  long  as  I  do  here.  At 
Miss  Crocker's,  to  be  sure,  I  was  out  much  more  than 
now,  but  it  is  not  customary.  I  like  here  very  much 
indeed.  Never  enjoyed  myself  more.  My  boardiug- 
place  is  very  pleasant  and  quite  homelike.  They  are 
very  kind  and  do  a  great  deal  to  make  me  comfort 
able.  I  have  plenty  of  callers,  but  have  not  yet 
returned  many  calls  on  account  of  my  lameness.  Mr. 
Curtis  is  very  kind  indeed,  and  does  a  great  deal  to 
smooth  away  all  the  difficulties.  As  you  take  the 
"  Tribune  "  you  have  probably  read  letters  from  Paris 
signed  '•  Au  revoir."  They  are  written  by  a  Mrs. 
Hitchcock,  formerly  Miss  Stephens,  who  was  a  teacher 
iu  the  same  school  where  I  am  now  at  the  time  Rev. 
Thomas  Beecher  was  Principal. 

RECITATION-ROOM,  HARTFORD  HIGH  SCHOOL, 

Friday,  December  8,  1854. 

DEAR  "  OLD  FOLKS  AT  HOME"  :  I  suppose  you  will 
be  glad  to  hear  from  me,  though  it  be  only  with  a  lead- 
pencil.  We  all  arrived  safely  in  Boston,  baggage, 
etc.  By  and  by  a  gentleman,  who  had  been  stand 
ing  by  the  stove,  came  and  sat  down  on  the  same  seat 
with  me  and  we  presently  entered  into  conversation, 
he,  of  course,  taking  the  lead.  We  talked  of  a  great 
many  things,  Russian  war  and  those  general  subjects 
disputed  a  great  deal.  He  was  very  pleasant,  and 
made  the  time  pass  away  very  agreeably.  It  was 
after  ten  o'clock  before  we  got  here  and  when  I  got 


TEACHING  77 

out  of  the  coach  to  go  into  the  house  I  went  half 
under  iu  a  great  snow  bank,  and  what  with  a  lame 
foot  and  a  lame  hand  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to 
get  out.  When  I  went  into  school  Tuesday  morning 
it  had  begun.  I  took  my  seat  as  usual.  I  don't 
think  anybody  noticed  my  hand,  as  it  was  concealed 
by  the  desk,  and  Mr.  Curtis  was  conducting  devo 
tional  exercises,  but  after  that  was  through  he  began 
to  talk  about  matters  and  things,  and  then  chanced 
to  see  my  wrapped-up  member —  "  Hurt  your  hand?  " 
I  said  nothing,  and  after  a  moment's  silence  we  both 
burst  into  a  laugh.  The  girls  and  boys  kept  asking 
me  what  ailed  my  hand  ;  some  I  told  one  thing  and 
some  another,  that  I  scalded  it  when  I  was  out  skat 
ing,  that  it  was  cold  and  I  wrapped  it  up  to  keep  it 
warm,  that  I  had  an  invitation  to  a  wedding  and 
wanted  to  make  it  white,  etc.  One  of  my  boys  gave 
me  a  beautiful  pearl-handled,  two-bladed  penknife, 
something  like  the  one  in  my  writing-desk,  for  a 
Thanksgiving  present,  he  said.  Tuesday  we  did  not 
have  any  recitations.  Henry  "Ward  Beecher  was 
engaged  to  lecture  Monday  evening,  but  the  train  was 
delayed,  much  to  my  delight,  I  must  say,  till  ten 
o'clock  at  night ;  consequently  the  lecture  was  put 
over  till  Wednesday  evening,  and  Mrs.  O.  and  I  went 
out  to  hear  him.  There  were  a  great  many  there.  I 
was  very  much  pleased,  but  still  disappointed,  not  so 
carried  away  as  I  expected  to  be,  perfectly  calm  all 
the  time.  Last  evening  we  were  all  invited  to  Mr. 
John  Olmsted's.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  been 
there  and  I  enjoyed  it  much.  Their  parlors  are  the 
cosiest,  most  homelike  I  have  seen  in  Hartford,  full 
of  books,  pictures,  nooks,  and  corners.  They  are 
very  cordial.  I  am  to  change  my  boarding-place  on 


78       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IX   LETTERS 

Monday.  I  am  sorry  myself  to  be  obliged  to  uo  and 
shall  expect  to  come  back  again  with  the  spring,  should 
I  remain  in  Hartford.  I  shall  always  consider  this 
one  of  my  homes,  as  everything  has  been  done  to  make 
me  feel  at  home.  I  am  going  to  Asylum  street,  where 
Mr.  Curtis  and  his  two  brothers  board.  The  room  I 
am  to  have  is  very  pleasant,  much  larger  and  lighter 
than  the  one  I  now  occupy,  —  French  bed,  drapery, 
curtains,  centre-table,  bureau,  etc.  I  dread  going 
exceedingly,  that  is,  I  mean  the  first  of  it.  I  wish  I 
was  all  there  and  settled.  My  hand  is  getting  better 
slowly,  the  swelling  is  nearly  gone,  though  the  colors 
remain  and  will,  I  suppose,  for  some  time.  I  am 
going  to  have  a  fire  in  a  fireplace  in  my  new  room.  I 
can  have  a  stove  if  I  want  it,  but  I  like  a  fireplace 
better.  My  lingers  and  thumb  feel  rather  achy,  and 
I  must  bid  you  good-night,  hoping  you  are  all  well 
and  happy. 

Affectionately. 


DECEMBER  14,   1854. 

MY  DEAR  PARENTS:  I  suppose  likely  you  will  be 
glad  to  learn  of  my  whereabouts.  I  have  found 
another  very  pleasant  home  and  esteem  myself  par 
ticularly  fortunate  in  this  matter.  The  house  is  on  a 
very  noisy,  busy,  bustling  street,  but  I  scarcely  hear 
of  it.  The  back  part  of  the  house  is  as  quiet  and 
pleasant  as  need  be.  There  is  a  conservatory  which 
is  quite  charming  this  cold  weather. 

I  am  attending  a  course  of  geological  lectures  by  a 
Dr.  Boyntou,  also  the  Institute  Lectures  and  the  Arts 
Union,  which  make  three  series,  so  my  time  in  the 
evening  is  somewhat  occupied.  My  hand  is  much 


TEACHING  79 

better.     I  have  left  off  the  bandages.     I  can  run  up 
stairs,  too,  with  considerable  ease. 

Saturday  evening.  My  heart  has  been  gladdened 
by  a  good  long  letter  from  you  to-day  which  I  will 
not  now  stop  to  answer,  only  saying  that  I  shall  expect 
an  answer  to  this  very  soon. 

JANUARY  1,   1855. 

MY  DEAR  A. :  With  many  good  wishes  I  commence 
a  letter  to  you  on  this  first  day  of  the  new  year.  The 
bells  are  ringing  merrily.  The  air  is  clear  and  cold 
to-day  and  sends  the  blood  leaping  and  dancing 
through  the  veins.  A  sad  day  I  am  afraid  it  is  to 
many,  to  some  because  the  old  year  has  brought  sor 
row  to  their  hearts,  to  others  because  the  new  year 
has  nothing  but  sorrow  to  offer.  "  The  poor  ye  have 
always  with  you,"  but  this  year,  many  who  have  al 
ways  lived  comfortably  are  brought  very  near  to  want, 
because  they  have  been  thrown  out  of  employment.  I 
went  to  hear  Colonel  Benton,  "  Old  Bullion,"  lecture 
the  other  night.  I  see  that  I  am  drawing  near  the  end 
of  my  sheet  both  by  the  diminishing  paper  and  the 
increasing  fatigue  of  my  lame  hand.  I  am  almost 
well,  hand  and  foot,  but  cannot  yet  bear  so  much  as 
formerly.  Trusting  that  the  New  Year  upon  which  we 
have  entered  will  be  one  of  pleasure  and  profit  to  us 
both,  bringing  us  higher  and  still  higher  in  the  scale 

'  O          ~  O  O 

of  life,  whether  it  leave  us  in  this  world  or  another,  I 
bid  you, 

Very  affectionately, 

Good-by. 

JANUARY  6. 

I  mean  to  come.  I  won't  stay  another  minute  after 
this  term.  As  for  wearing  out  my  life,  and  soul,  and 


80       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

brain,  and  lungs,  in  teaching  and  getting  just  enough 
to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  I  won't  do  it  any 
longer.  If  I  stay  at  home  I  shall  be  some  company 
for  you,  and  I  can  try  for  one  year  on  Mr.  Cowles' 
plan  and  see  whether  my  pen  may  not  do  something 
for  me.  I  can  at  least  be  no  worse  off  than  I  am 
now.  I  have  had  it  on  my  mind  to  write  to  you  about 
this  for  some  days,  as  I  did  not  know  but  that  you 
supposed  I  was  getting  rich  with  rapidity.  I  am  glad, 
however,  that  you  are  not  deceiving  yourself  in  this 
respect.  I  have  tried  teaching  some  four  years,  and 
I  think  it  is  quite  time  to  see  whether  something  else 
will  not  be  as  profitable  and  less  wearisome  and  wear 
ing.  Still  I  am  not  insensible  to  the  many  pleasant 
things  I  shall  give  up  with  my  situation  here,  many 
advantages,  kind  friends,  society,  etc.  I  don't  be 
lieve  I  shall  ever  be  more  happily  situated.  Oh,  dear, 
how  I  should  like  to  be  rich,  but  I  don't  suppose  I 
ever  shall  be.  I  wonder  if  I  am  always  to  be  in 
such  an  ado  about  the  wherewithal  to  eat,  drink,  and 
wear.  But  I  have  said  enough  about  this.  Don't 
imagine  that  it  makes  me  unhappy,  not  a  bit  of  it.  I 
am  only  in  a  worry  because  I  don't  know  exactly 
what  course  to  take,  but  I  am  now  pretty  much 
decided. 

Saturday  eve.  After  nine  o'clock.  Long  looked 
for,  come  at  last.  Dr.  Curtis  has  just  handed  me  a 
check  for  one  hundred  dollars.  You  may  be  amused 
to  hear  that  the  other  night  I  was  walking  to  the  lect 
ure  with  Mr.  C.  and  Mrs.  "\V.  I  was  busy  with  my 
own  thoughts,  when  suddenly  I  found  myself  all  alone 
and  had  not  the  slightest  idea  where  I  was,  or  how 
far  I  had  arone.  I  turned  back  and  found  that  I  was 


TEACHING  81 

not  so  very  far  by  the  lecture  room.  They  were 
watching  me  and  enjoying  a  hearty  laugh  at  my 
expense. 

JANUARY  20. 

You  know  I  told  you  about  my  wearing  that  nine- 
pence  around  my  neck  ;  the  other  day  one  of  my  boys, 
a  great  tall  fellow,  came  to  me  and  wanted  me  to  let 
him  take  the  string  a  few  moments.  I  was  afraid  he 
was  going  to  play  some  trick,  as  the  scholars  laugh  a 
good  deal  about  my  ninepence,  but  he  said  he  would 
not,  and  I  let  him  take  it.  In  a  few  minutes  he  came 
and  put  it  on  my  neck  again,  and  I  found  that  he  had 
put  a  gold  dollar  on  by  a  little  ring,  so  you  see  my 
salary  is  already  increased. 

I  came  very  near  being  smashed  the  other  day  up 
in  the  gymnasium.  Mr.  Curtis,  Alden,  and  two  of 
the  scholars  were  up  there  with  me  after  school  and  it 
was  nearly  dark.  We  were  in  the  circular  swing  and 
going  at  full  speed,  when  somehow  or  other  I  let  go 
my  hold  and  went  head  first,  striking  the  floor,  of 
course,  with  a  great  deal  of  force.  The  weight  of  the 
blow  came  on  the  side  of  my  head.  My  elbow  also 
was  considerably  bruised.  For  two  or  three  minutes 
it  seemed  as  though  my  skull  was  cracked,  but  I  guess 
it  wasn't.  They  were  all  sadly  frightened,  more  so 
than  I  was,  and  it  was  so  dark  they  could  not  see, 
and  thought  of  course  I  must  be  faint  and  ran  for 
water  and  began  to  rub  me  and  try  to  get  me  down 
stairs,  but  I  was  soon  on  my  feet  again  and  snow 
balled  coming  home  as  vigorously  as  any  of  them. 
The  swelling  on  my  head  has  not  quite  subsided,  and 
it  is  a  little  sore  ;  in  fact,  I  am  sore  and  lame  all  over, 
partly  from  the  fall  and  partly  from  the  exercise. 


82       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

Mrs.  Taylor,  a  sister  of  the  Curtises,  has  been  visit 
ing  here  a  few  days.  She  is  a  pretty,  careless,  agree 
able  little  woman.  In  fact,  I  think  the  Curtis  family 
altogether  are  quite  remarkable.  They  are  very 
affectionate.  Alden  is  a  noble  fellow,  and  so  are 
they  all. 

JANUARY  27,  1855. 

Last  evening  I  was  called  down  to  a  game  of  blind- 
man's  buff  which  lasted  from  ten  to  eleven,  after 
which  I  sat  in  the  sitting-room  and  read  "  Pendeuuis  " 
till  about  one,  when  I  opened  the  doors  that  lead  to 
the  conservatory,  turned  off  the  gas,  and  went  to  bed. 
I  like  very  much  to  sit  up  so  after  the  rest  of  the 
people  are  gone  to  bed.  It  is  very  warm  and  com 
fortable.  A  good  fire  is  kept  in  the  furnace  all  night, 
and  it  is  so  quiet.  The  conservatory  opens  from  the 
sitting-room  by  two  large  double  glass  doors  which 
are  thrown  open  every  night  to  let  in  the  warm  air. 
Mr.  C.  was  down  part  of  the  time  and  wanted  me  to 
read  aloud  to  him.  I  was  half  scared  out  of  my 
senses  and  stumbled  breathlessly  along,  called  half 
my  words  wrong,  and  was  heartily  glad  when  he  went 
off  to  bed. 

You  cannot  tell  how  dream-like  everything  about 
Ipswich  seems  to  be.  I  don't  believe  I  shall  ever  go 
back  there  to  teach  —  not  for  the  present,  at  least. 
It  is  so  different  here.  My  home  is  very  pleasant.  I 
do  not  believe  I  could  ever  be  so  happy  as  I  have 
been  in  a  house  with  boarding-school  girls.  I  enjoy 
my  out-of-school  life  here  more  than  ever  before. 
Alden  Curtis  is  a  character ;  I  think  you  would  like 
him.  I  should  like  to  have  you  and  him  together  a 
little  while.  He  is  a  very  skilful  drawer  and  de- 


TEACHING  83 

signer.  He  engraved  the  portrait  of  Rev.  O.  A.  Tay 
lor  which  adorns,  or  rather  forms,  the  frontispiece  of 
his  memoirs. 

SATURDAY,  February  3. 

You  may  be  interested  to  know  that  I  am  writing 
to  you  on  a  very  pretty  new  portfolio  which  Mr. 
Curtis  has  just  given  me. 

HARTFORD,  CONN.,  February  7,  1855. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER:  You  can't  think  how  pleasant 
everything  is  here.  There  are  several  families  with 
which  I  am  becoming  acquainted,  and  I  like  the  school 
vastly.  I  think,  too,  it  is  rather  pleasant  to  live  in 
a  city  on  some  accounts  in  the  winter.  I  have 
attended  some  very  fine  lectures  this  winter,  particu 
larly  one  by  Dr.  Bethune,  of  Brooklyn,  N.Y.,  on 
"  Work  and  Labor,"  and  more  particularly  one  by 
Goo.  Win.  Curtis,  of  New  York  City,  on  u  Success." 
The  latter  is  a  young  man,  but  I  think  one  of  the 
most  promising  in  the  country.  He  is  the  author  of 
the  "  Potiphar  Papers,"  which  were  first  published  in 
"  Putnam's  Monthly,"  but  are  now  collected  in  a  book. 
I  had  a  letter  from  Augusta  a  day  or  two  since,  spoke 
of  father's  having  visited  in  Cambridge,  etc. 

I  hope  you  clapped  and  cheered  at  Seward's  reelec 
tion.  I  look  upon  him  as  one  of  our  first  statesmen 
in  point  of  principle,  good  judgment,  good  sense,  and 
unwavering  adherence  to  the  right,  as  well  as  in  point 
of  intellect.  I  went  out  to  make  a  call  on  a  Mrs. 
Hooker  at  Nook  farms  about  a  mile  and  a  quarter 
from  here.  She  is  a  sister  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher  — 
her  husband  is  a  direct  descendant  of  the  Hooker  of 
Puritan  remembrance,  and  is  a  lawyer  of  this  city. 


84       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Mrs.  Wingate,  my  landlady,  went  with  inc.  Mrs. 
H.  insisted  that  we  should  stay  to  tea,  which  we 
did,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  time.  Mrs.  Hooker 
gave  me  a  dress  which  she  had  made  several  years 
ago,  in  order  to  practise  in  at  a  gymnasium.  It  is  a 
kind  of  bloomer,  full  Turkish  trousers,  etc.  I  think 
I  shall  wear  it  down  to  our  gymnasium  when  I  begin 
to  practise  much.  She  sent  us  home  in  the  evening 
in  her  own  carriage.  Mr.  Gillette,  the  United  States 
Senator  from  here,  is  her  brother-in-law.  We  have 
grand  times  once  in  a  while  playing  blindman's  buff. 
It  is  a  good  thing  to  get  your  blood  warm  this  cold 
weather.  I  don't  suppose  I  take  so  much  exercise  as 
I  ought.  Mr.  Curtis  is  half  sick.  Mr.  Caprou  went 
home  six  weeks  ago,  but  I  am  tough,  as  I  always  was. 
Good-night.  I  hope  you  will  sleep  warmly  and  dream- 
lessl}'.  I  have  taken  to  sitting  up  late  —  go  to  bed 
about  twelve,  rise  after  seven,  and  like  it  much. 
Good-night  again.  From 

Your  affectionate  sister, 

M.  A.  I). 

FEBRUARY  17,  1855. 

MY  DEAR  "DADDY  AND  MA'AM":  It  is  Saturday 
night,  but  unlike  my  Puritan  ancestry,  and  not  in 
accordance  with  my  Puritan  education,  my  labors  do 
not  cease  with  the  going  down  of  the  sun.  I  have 
just  finished  one  piece  of  work,  and  am  going  to  take 
up  another,  but  shall  first  take  a  kind  of  recess  by 
commencing  a  letter  to  you.  You  will  understand 
that  by  work  I  mean  head  work,  not  hand  work.  I 
scarcely  touch  a  needle  from  week's  end  to  week's 
end.  Oh,  dear  !  I  wish  I  had  a  negro  to  do  my  mend 
ing  for  me,  and  take  care  of  me  and  my  clothes  gen- 


TEACHING  85 

erally.  I  was  rhapsodizing  on  the  blessings  of  wealth 
yesterday  to  Mr.  Curtis,  and  said  if  I  were  rich  I 
would  not  even  comb  my  own  hair !  "  Yes,"  said  he, 
"  I  believe  you.  It  is  as  much  as  ever  you  do  it, 
now  you  are  poor."  I  do,  however,  every  day.  At 
present  I  am  very  much  occupied.  Twelve  o'clock 
scarcely  ever  sees  me  in  bed.  Mr.  Curtis  and  I  have 
been  talking  over  some  old  matters  and  things  — 
says  he  don't  know  when  he  was  more  in  doubt  than 
about  taking  me  after  he  saw  me  in  Boston,  should 
not  have  risked  it  if  he  could  have  found  anybody 
else,  but  thought  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cowles  must  be  per 
sons  of  good  sense,  and  trusted  to  that,  said  they  had 
spoken  so  very  highly  of  me,  compared  me  with  Miss 
Crocker,  etc.,  and  when  he  saw  me  he  did  not  per 
ceive  anything  extraordinary,  and  consequently  so 
much  the  more  disappointed.  He  was  so  impertinent 
as  to  say  (speaking  of  the  letters  which  he  received 
from  various  applicants)  that  he  did  not  believe  I 
could  write  a  letter  which  would  be  satisfactory  to 
him  —  there  would  be  some  freak-ish  expression  in  it 
which  would  make  him  afraid,  and  he  should  want  a 
personal  interview,  and  if  he  could  not  have  it  should 
be  afraid  to  run  the  risk  of  employing  me.  What 
do  you  think  of  that?  I  was  rather  indignant.  By 
the  way  —  you  wonder  that  I  received  the  portfolio  — 
so  I  will  just  tell  you  how  I  received  it.  He  came 
into  my  room  one  day,  bringing  it  in  his  hand,  and 
asked  me  if  I  should  have  any  use  for  it.  I  told  him 
no  I  did  not  want  it,  and  should  not  use  it.  He  threw 
it  across  the  room  on  the  bed,  and  there  it  lay.  I 
remonstrated,  and  said,  "Now,  what  did  you  buy 
that  for  me  for?"  And  he  said,  "Because  I  had  a 
mind  to."  I  shall  always  look  upon  this  as  one  of 


86       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

my  happiest  winters  —  thanks  to  Miss  Crocker,  as  if 
she  had  been  a  little  more  agreeable,  I  might  have  re 
turned  there  and  gone  ou  for  an  indefinite  period  of 
time. 

FEBRUARY  25. 

I  called  on  Miss  Ferry  at  Mrs.  Perkins'  this  P.M. 
I  made  two  other  calls,  went  to  the  young  men's 
Institute,  changed  some  books,  looked  at  the  "  Illus 
trated  News  "  pictures,  did  a  little  mending,  took  a 
sleigh  ride,  had  a  call  from  a  Miss  Conner,  ate 
supper,  read  a  little,  wrote  a  little,  and  have  been 
playing  ever  since.  Last  night  we  made  molasses 
candy  —  tried  my  hand  at  pulling  it  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life.  Never  was  such  a  time.  Molasses  all 
stuck  to  my  hands.  When  I  stretched  open  my  fingers 
my  hand  looked  like  a  duck's  foot  —  nathless,  we  had 
some  good  candy.  The  others  knew  how  to  make  it, 
if  I  did  not.  It  seems  to  me  you  are  turning  over  a 
new  leaf  in  life,  theatres  and  dancing-school  in  the 
same  week.  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  say  anything,  at 
least  you  might  say  so  were  you  to  see  me  luxuriating 
over  the  wine  cup.  Nothing  warms  you  up  so  this 
cold  weather  like  the  juice  of  the  grape,  sweetened 
down  to  my  unsophisticated  taste.  My  honored  prin 
cipal  tosses  it  off  unadulterated,  but  dilutes  it  slightly 
when  he  puts  the  glass  to  my  lips. 

As  for  money,  I  have  had  nothing  but  charity 
money  this  long  time,  but  console  myself  with  the 
reflection  that  pay-day  comes  in  April,  when  I  sup 
pose  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  paying  my  board  and 
other  bills,  and  have,  I  hope,  money  enough  left  to 
get  home  with.  I  have  given  up  all  thought  of  laying 
up  money.  If  I  spend  my  youth  and  health  and 
strength  in  a  good  cause,  I  trust  He  who  provides  for 


TEACHING  87 

the  ravens  their  food,  will  not  give  me  over  in  my 
gray  hairs. 

APRIL  2,  1855. 

You  will  perhaps  be  interested  and  pleased  to 
know  that  my  salary  has  been  raised  a  hundred  dollars 
this  spring,  so  that  I  now  have  five  hundred  a  year. 
I  wonder  also  if  you  knew  that  last  Saturday  was  my 
birthday.  I  had  a  beautiful  book  of  ballads,  gilt  edi 
tion,  cream-colored  paper,  pictures,  etc.,  for  a  birth 
day  present.  Drove  out  last  Saturday  into  the 
country,  the  first  time  since  sleighing  went  away.  I 
hope  you  are  well  and  happy.  "  Live  I,  so  live  I  — 
to  my  Lord  heartily,  to  my  Prince  faithfully,  to  my 
neighbor  honestly  —  Die  I,  so  die  I."  Write  to  me 
about  your  everyday  life.  I  hope  you  are  not  devot 
ing  yourself  too  closely  to  business. 

Ever  your, 

Affectionate  sister. 

HARTFORD,  CONN.,  May  2G,  1855. 
I  put  my   letter   in  the  office  to-day,  so  it  seems 
rather  early  to  begin  another.    Nevertheless,  thinking 
you  might  all  be  enjoying  yourselves  at  home,  I  take 
the  next  best  thins;  and  write 


TO  MY  DEAR  "HAWTHORNE"  ON  HER 
MARRIAGE   DAY. 

They  brought  him  a  chalice  of  wroughten  gold, 
And  brimmed  it  with  southern  wine 

Pressed  by  the  dark-eyed  Doric  girls 
From  the  fruit  of  the  Cyprian  vine  — 

The  delicate  leaf  of  a  snow-white  rose 
He  dropped  on  its  glowing  breast. 

It  fluttered  and  swayed  in  the  fragrant  air, 


88       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Then  sank  to  its  ruby  rest. 
But  the  goblet's  brim  of  wroughten  gold 

No  drop  did  overflow  — 
So  gently  the  Cyprian  wine  upbore 

The  rose-leaf  white  as  snow. 

Thy  heart,  O  friend,  is  full  of  love  to-night, 

All  quivering  with  its  over-weight  of  bliss, 
Yet  mindful  of  the  Past's  evanished  light 

I  humbly,  Hawthorne,  dare  implore  thee,  this, 
That,  as  I  lowly  kneel  before  thy  shrine 

And  unto  thee  my  humble  tribute  bring, 
Thou  wilt  not  spurn  from  thee  this  heart  of  mine 

But  kindly  take  the  simple  offering  — 
So  shall  my  love  lie  lightly  upon  thine 
Like  snow-white  rose-leaf  on  the  Cyprian  wine. 

You  perceive  I  send  you  another  of  my  effusions  — 
saves  paper,  not  to  mention  your  own  delight  in  read 
ing  it.  This  is  the  one  I  intend  to  send. 

I,  last  night,  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  an  eel  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life.  I  was  walking  away  off  out 
of  the  city  and  saw  some  little  boys  fishing  —  asked 
them  what  kind  of  fish  they  caught  and  they  said  eels. 
So  I  waited  a  few  minutes,  and  up  came  one  wriggl 
ing  and  writhing,  poor  fellow,  but  they  soon  cut  his 
head  off,  and  put  an  end  to  his  troubles.  A  little 
farther  on  were  some  Germans  —  men,  women,  and 
children  out  doors  having  a  real  "old  country  "  good 
time.  The  men  were  shooting,  the  women  talk 
ing,  knitting,  etc.  They  seemed  to  be  enjoying  it 
vastly.  Foreigners  live  in  the  open  air  much  more 
than  we  Americans. 

JUNE  7. 

Last  night  I  went  to  the  annual  meeting  of  the 
Colonization  Society.  Mr.  Orcutt  is  agent  for  it. 
This,  you  may  perhaps  know,  is  a  society  for  sending 


TEACHING  89 

blacks  to  Liberia  in  Africa,  where  they  have  a  Re 
public  with  a  President,  Legislature,  etc.,  all  in  due 
form, —  composed  entirely  of  negroes.  The  position 
of  the  black  man  there  is  of  course  entirely  different 
from  what  it  is  here  and  gives  him  an  opportunity  to 
rise  in  the  social  scale.  The  meeting  was  addressed 
by  Governor,  who  is  also  Rev.  Mr.  Binney,  who  has 
just  returned  from  a  visit  to  Liberia.  He  has  been 
staying  at  our  house,  and  is  an  agreeable  man.  He 
spoke  of  several  negroes  who  went  there  from  Hart 
ford.  One  of  them  who  went  about  ten  years  ago 
sent  word  by  Mr.  B.,  to  his  friends  in  H.,  that  he 
would  not  sell  his  farm  there  for  ten  thousand  dollars. 
Mr.  B.  said  he  saw  some  of  the  finest  coffee  farms 
there  that  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life.  The  trees 
produced  ten  and  fifteen  pounds  of  coffee  apiece.  In 
the  West  Indies,  the  average  produce  of  each  tree  is 
a  pound  and  a  half,  and  four  pounds  is  considered  a 
great  yield.  His  remarks  were  very  interesting,  and 
rendered  more  so  by  his  easy  and  fluent  style  of 
address. 

JUNE  12,  1855. 

You  need  not  be  alarmed  about  my  ruining  my 
health  by  sitting  up  late  at  night.  I  can  scarcely  keep 
my  eyes  open  till  ten  o'clock.  I  go  to  bed  early  and 
often  do  not  rise  till  half-past  six.  I  need  more  sleep 
than  I  did  before  I  came  here.  My  whole  nervous 
system  is  so  exhausted  at  night  that  I  need  all  the 
recuperative  power  of  sleep  which  I  can  get. 

JUNE  15. 

I  bought  some  black  lace,  and  have  made  my  old 
mantilla  all  over  again,  turned  and  trimmed  it  and 
finished  it  by  noon,  —  don't  you  think  I  am  growing 


90       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

smart?  It  looks  better  than  when  new,  I  think.  I 
wish  when  you  see  Dr.  Kittreclge  you  would  ask  him 
whether  it  would  do  any  good  to  continue  to  apply  lo 
my  foot  what  he  gave  me.  It  troubles  me  very  much, 
that  is,  not  the  foot  itself,  but  the  whole  limb  above 
it.  I  think  it  is  only  weariness,  as  Sundays  and  Mon 
days  it  seems  to  be  as  well  as  usual,  but  by  Tuesday 
it  begins  to  grow  tired  and  toward  the  last  of  the 
week  I  really  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it.  It  is 
not  actual  pain,  but  such  a  tired,  achy,  nervous  feel 
ing. 

I  have  been  reading  a  book  called  "  Chemistry  of 
Common  Life,"  in  which  some  facts  are  stated  which 
rather  surprised  me  ;  for  instance  —  that  our  common 
wheat  bread  is  nearly  half  water,  and  that  old  stale 
bread  is  really  no  drier  than  new,  that  is,  it  contains 
just  as  much  water  —  a  proof  of  this  is  that  if  you 
put  a  stale  loaf  into  a  closely  covered  tin,  expose  for 
half  an  hour  or  an  hour  to  a  heat  about  the  same  as 
that  of  boiling  water,  then  remove  the  tin  and  allow 
it  to  cool,  the  loaf  will  be  just  as  good  as  new.  I 
should  like  to  have  you  try  it  some  time.  I  should 
think  it  would  be  very  convenient,  particularly  in  the 
summer.  Did  you  know  also  that  the  shells  of  eggs 
are  full  of  little  holes  by  which  the  air  gets  in  and 
feeds  the  little  chicken  —  and  also  makes  the  eggs 
decay  —  so  that  if  you  rub  the  fresh  egg  over  with 
fat,  it  will  keep  to  an  indefinite  length  of  time  ? 
When  you  boil  meat,  do  you  plunge  it  into  hot  water, 
or  put  it  in  the  cold  and  let  them  all  heat  together? 

Miss  Crocker's  graduating  ceremonies  are  to  be  to 
night.  I  hardly  think  I  shall  go.  Professor  Silliman 
is  to  address  them — of  Yale  College.  One  of  my 
boys  brought  me,  I  should  think,  nearly  two  quarts 


TEACHING  91 

of  cherries  the  other  day,  all  strung  on  a  stick  with  a 
kind  of  hook  at  the  end  of  it,  so  that  they  looked  like 
one  solid  cluster,  and  rich  enough  they  were.  I  at 
tended  the  exercises  at  the  Centre  Church  Thursday 
evening,  as  Mrs.  Wingate  wished  very  much  that  I 
should  go.  The  house  was  crowded,  the  lecture  not 
particularly  interesting,  and  rather  long.  Twelve 
young  ladies  received  diplomas,  among  whom  was 
Lizzy  Hale,  John  P.  Male's  daughter.  They  looked 
very  pretty,  all  of  them,  in  white  dresses  and  plenty  of 
flowers. 

JULY  9. 

Saturday  here  was  a  rainy  day.  I  read  the  greater 
part  of  the  time,  ironed  rny  muslin  dress,  took  a  two 
hours'  nap  after  dinner,  embroidered  a  little,  mended 
a  little,  went  up  street  about  four  o'clock  and  bought 
a  pound  of  candy,  which  was  all  gone  the  next  morn 
ing,  except  three  little  balls.  Mrs.  Perkins  called  on 
me  after  tea,  and  brought  a  long  letter  for  me  to  read 
which  she  had  received  from  Mrs.  Hall,  informing  her 
of  the  circumstances  of  her  bridal  tour.  Among  other 
things,  she  said  that  while  they  were  at  Quebec,  one 
of  the  largest  cities  in  Canada,  the  Lord  Mayor  had  a 
banquet  at  the  hotel  where  they  were.  About  eight 
o'clock  Mr.  Hall  and  Mr.  Holton,  a  gentleman  who  was 
travelling  with  them,  thought  they  would  go  down  and 
take  a  look  at  the  company  for  a  few  minutes  ;  Amanda 
stayed  behind.  They  did  not  return  till  eleven 
o'clock,  and  it  seems  that  while  they  were  standing  at 
the  door  among  a  number  of  others,  the  Lord  Mayor 
noticed  them,  sent  a  message  to  them.  They  were 
brought  and  introduced  to  him,  and  were  invited  to 
take  seats  at  the  table  as  guests  from  the  United  States. 
Soon  after  they  were  seated,  a  toast  was  given  com- 


92       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

plimentary  to  the  Union,  and  Mr.  Holton  replied  very 
ably  and  was  much  applauded.  Mrs.  Hall  says  they 
passed  everywhere  for  old  married  people,  and  one 
lady,  after  a  few  hours'  acquaintance,  asked  her  if  she 
left  any  children  at  home. 

School  closes  in  about  three  weeks.  Be  ready  for 
me  any  time,  by  which  I  do  not  mean,  cook  a  whole 
houseful  of  provisions.  I  want  plenty  of  bread  and 
milk,  currants  and  berries  and  lemonade,  but  no  cake 
or  meat  or  anything  of  the  kind,  so  I  beg  you  not  to 
waste  your  strength  in  vain  and  unprofitable  laboring 
for  the  meat  that  perisheth. 

HAMILTON*,  August  9,  1855. 

Really,  Mr.  T.  W.  T.  C.,  in  the  first  burst  of  in 
dignation,  I  had  a  great  mind  to  take  your  letter  down 
to  the  minister's  and  have  it  "  read  to  the  church," 
then,  considering  that  the  novelty  of  the  thing  might 
be  considered  incompatible  with  the  sacredncss  of  a 
house  of  worship,  I  concluded  to  content  myself  with 
putting  it  into  the  publishing-box.  By  the  time  I  had 
ascertained  that  that  interesting  relic  was  a  relic  only, 
my  temperature  had  subsided,  and  I  laid  the  offending 
document  quietly  in  my  portfolio.  I  do  not  know  but 
that  your  digest  of  epistolary  laws  may  be  quite  just 
and  strictly  constitution:il,  yet  I  may  as  well  frankly 
confess  that  1  have  always  broken  through  them.  I 
think  I  have  not  in  my  possession  a  single  letter,  ex 
cept  yours,  of  which  my  good  mother  has  not  heard 
or  read  a  part  or  a  whole.  I  do  not  think  my  corre 
spondents  have  generally  or  ever  taken  umbrage 
thereat,  though  I  think  it  a  fact  of  which  they  are  all 
aware.  Do  you  remember  what  a  tempest  there  was 
that  evening?  There  wasn't  any  where  I  was,  but  it 


TEACHING  93 

looked  as  though  there  would  be  one,  and  the  pre 
monitory  symptoms  are  to  me  much  more  agreeable 
than  the  "in  median  res."  I  like  the  darkness,  the 
blackness,  the  flashes  in  the  rough,  terrific  clouds  that 
precede,  but  when  it  has  all  expanded  into  one  great 
gray  sky,  it  becomes  commonplace,  and  the  beauty  is 
all  on  the  earth.  Mary  Olmsted  and  I  went  out  one 
evening  to  walk  up  and  down  the  street,  bare-headed, 
as  is  the  wont  of  the  dwellers  on  that  street.  We 
had  only  reached  Chapel  street  when  a  woman  leaped 
from  her  place  of  ambush,  and  tried  to  get  us  into  her 
house  to  hear  her  daughter,  or  niece,  or  somebody 
sing.  We  resisted  manfully.  I  struggled  to  the  last 
—  the  idea  of  my  holding  coroner's  inquest  on  the 
body  of  a  singer.  Her  voluble  tongue  at  last  proved 
too  strong  for  my  wearied  organ,  so  I  dragged  my 
reluctant  feet  parlor- ward.  Miss  —  began.  I  sat 
close  by  Man"  O.  and  "  took  my  cue ''  from  her.  If 
she  said  "  sweet,"  I  said  "charming."  If  she  pro 
nounced  it  "  beautiful,"  I  echoed  "  elegant."  If  it 
struck  her  as  "  sublime,"  it  produced  upon  me  an 
equal  impression  of  "  grandeur."  I  flatter  myself 
that  my  diplomacy  was  successful  eminently.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  when  I  was  permitted  to  depart,  I  left 
behind  me  the  enviable  reputation  of  a  musical  con 
noisseur. 

Now  I  am  at  home,  —  "  Hamilton  and  Weuham  " 
staring  me  full  in  the  face,  —  I  was  never  so  in  love 
with  it  in  my  life ;  I  mean  with  this  particular  part  of 
it.  I  have  a  kind  of  personal  love  for  this  earth  ;  such 
a  dear,  good  old  mother  she  seems  to  us  all ;  such 
a  great,  round,  green,  rich,  luxuriant,  voluptuous, 
dewy,  dreamy,  liquid,  moonlit  earth.  Never  was 
there  such  a  wealth  of  beauty  in  landscape  and  sky- 


94       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

scape,  such  fulness  of  outline  and  richness  of  coloring, 
such  sunset  and  starlight,  such  freshness  of  life. 

I  am  riding  horseback,  too,  notwithstanding  your 
ridicule,  Monsieur  mon  frere.  Give  me  a  good 
horse,  sir,  and  I  will  show  you  some  equestrianism 
that  shall  put  you  to  the  blush,  sir.  Di  Vernon 
would  "hide  her  diminished  head."  I  am  eating 
bread  and  milk,  too,  with  a  gusto  that  shows  "  I 
give  my  mind  to  it."  As  for  sleeping,  I  flatter 
myself  I  do  as  much  in  that  line  as  anybody,  except 
ing  my  sister,  who  is  a  very  Rip  Van  Winkle.  Do 
you  know  I  have  adopted  Greek  again  ?  I  am  going 
to  study  it  next  term.  I  suppose  you  will  laugh  at 
the  idea,  but  I  assure  you  I  used  to  study  once,  and  I 
mean  to  try  it  again  for  the  sake  of  variety. 

Evening.  The  day  is  done,  and  a  day  to  be  re 
membered —  a  very  panorama  of  beauty.  In  the 
morning  the  rain  came  down  frantic  and  furious ; 
then  it  died  away  in  gentle  showers,  and  little  cool 
drops  fluttered  rustlingly  down,  and  all  the  blinds 
were  fringed  with  silver  ;  then  the  clouds  rolled  up  and 
sauntered  over  the  sky  together,  and  in  the  clear  sun 
shine  everything  looked  as  if  it  had  been  washed,  and 
rinsed,  and  clear-starched,  and  ironed,  and  put  out  to 
air  ;  then  the  clouds  came  round  again,  and  "  "Wind, 
the  grand  old  Harper,  smote  his  thunder  harp  of 
pines,"  and  we  had  a  "  Harrycane;"  and  in  shutting 
the  windows,  my  clean  white  spencer  became  wet 
through,  woe  is  me  !  then  the  clouds  rolled  themselves 
up  and  trotted  off  again,  and  "  far  in  the  west  in  ver 
milion  and  gold  sank  the  sun  to  his  rest."  Did  you 
notice  the  peculiar  mellow  tint  in  which  the  earth 
seemed  to  lie  as  in  a  battle?  Now  it  is  night,  "  the 
world  is  in  dreams  and  asleep,  love,"  —  the  stars  do 


TEACHING  95 

not  sparkle,  but  glow,  and  the  south  wind  comes  to 
me  softly  as  a  breath ;  so  I  commission  it  to  bear  to 
you  all  health  and  hope  and  happiness.  I  remember 
reading  from  Longfellow,  yesterday,  where  he  speaks 
of  the  silence  of  the  night,  how  it  is  audible,  how  you 
can  hear  the  crumbling  and  falling  away  of  the  earth, 
but  the  night  has  no  such  voices  for  me.  People  talk 
very  slightingly  about  natural  religion  as  if  it  were  a 
thing  to  be  guarded  against,  but  I  for  one  do  not 
believe  it.  I  think  it  is  just  as  good  as  revealed  relig 
ion,  as  far  as  it  goes.  It  seems  to  me  that  God  is 
just  as  truly  worshipped  and  loved  through  His  works 
as  through  His  word,  and  they  certainly  speak  to  us 
when  other  voices  are  hushed.  I  hope  you  are  not 
asleep  while  I  am  writing,  but  I  dare  say  you  are 
"snoozing"  away  for  dear  life,  and  it  vexes  me  to 
think  you  are  not  listening  to  what  I  am  saying.  On 
second  thought,  however,  I  do  not  blame  you,  for  I 
know  I  have  written  an  unconscionably  long  letter. 

There  is  no  telling  how  much  my  dreams  of  bliss 
to-day  are  blended  with  visions  of  the  peerless  mack 
erel,  the  inapproachable  hasty  pudding,  the  ineffable 
custard,  the  luscious  doughnuts,  and  the  gorgeous 
"slap  jacks"  that  have  wended  their  devious  way 
down  my  unreluctant  throat.  I  have  been  a  very 
gourmand  to-day,  with  shame  be  it  spoken.  I  took 
your  letter  from  the  office  and  read  it  "  under  the 
shade  of  the  broad-spreading  beech  tree,"  in  the  most 
romantic-looking  place  in  the  world,  with  the  most 
pastoral  of  COAVS  grazing  around  me,  and  the  most  mu 
sical  of  birds  above  me.  What  could  you  ask  more? 
Good  night.  To  all  that  I  can  do  for  you  by  word  or 
deed,  in  earth  or  heaven,  you  are  a  thousand  times 
welcome  —  alas  that  it  is  so  little,  I  can  ask  for  you 


9G       GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

nothing  which  I  have  not  asked  before.  If  earnest 
wishes  could  avail  aught,  life  should  be  to  you  only 
"  a  sunny  spot  of  greenery."  Yet  though  clouds  and 
darkness  should  be  around,  he  shall  be  kept  in  perfect 
peace  whose  soul  is  stayed  on  God.  I  have  far  more 
need  of  your  prayers  than  you  of  mine.  Your  foun 
dation  is  sure,  but  mine  is  rocked  by  every  breeze. 
God  help  me.  I  was  born  with  my  fingers  all  thumbs, 
and  I  do  everything  in  such  a  left-handed  way,  and 
everything  I  say,  though  it  starts  from  my  heart  all 
right,  is  topsy-turvy  by  the  time  it  gets  to  my  tongue, 
so  when  I  open  my  mouth  to  drop  pearls  and  dia 
monds,  out  leap  the  hideous  frogs  and  toads.  Pity 
me,  do  !  I  am  a  wonder  to  myself. 

I  am  going  to  take  a  long  walk  through  the  woods 
to  carry  this  letter  and  another  to  the  P.  O.  Don't 
you  think  I  have  improved  in  the  matter  of  chirogra- 
phy?  I  think  my  hand-writing  is  so  elegantly  femi 
nine.  Good-by. 

Very  truly,  etc., 

M.   A.  D. 

MY  DEAR:  On  the  morning  of  June  18  I  went  to 
Boston,  to  the  Fitchburg  depot,  and  amused  myself 
with  an  "Atlantic"  till  the  train  started.  At  that 
moment  Miss  Tal'ant  came  in,  and  rode  to  the  next 
station  with  me.  After  she  got  out  at  Porter's,  I 
proceeded  to  Concord.  Rose  Hawthorne  met  me  at 
the  station,  and  I  was  cordially  welcomed.  A  very 
urgent  invitation  to  attend  class-meeting  the  next  day 
from  a  Mr.  Higginson,  awaited.  Mrs.  Hawthorne 
did  not  care  to  go,  but  would  go  if  I  would  like  it. 
As  I  had  been  the  year  before,  I  did  not  care  to  go 
again,  so  Una,  the  oldest  daughter,  went  and  we 


TEACHING  97 

stayed  at  home.  Thursday  evening,  Emerson,  William 
Ellery  Channing,  and  "  Conversation  Alcott  "  and  his 
daughter  called.  Emerson  and  Alcott  occupied  me  the 
most  of  the  evening.  Emerson  has  the  sweetest  smile 
possible,  is  very  courteous,  speaks  slowly  but  dis 
tinctly.  We  did  not  get  very  near  each  other,  how 
ever.  One  hardly  can  in  a  room,  and  with  listeners. 
Mr.  Alcott  is  an  older,  white-headed,  tall  man  —  lives 
next  house  to  Hawthorne's.  After  they  were  gone, 
Mr.  H.  took  out  his  watch,  and  with  an  indescribable 
look  towards  me,  said,  '•  Only  half-past  nine,  and  we 
have  been  through  all  this  siege."  Friday,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  H.  and  I  rambled  through  the  woods  to  the  old 
Manse,  Concord  Bridge,  battle-ground,  through  the 
village,  etc.  Saturday,  Mr.  H.,  Una,  and  I  walked 
to  Walden  in  the  morning,  went  to  Mr.  Emerson's  on 
the  way  to  get  his  oars  and  thole-pins.  The  philoso 
pher  took  us  out  into  the  barn,  and  climbed  over  old 
sleighs  and  wagons,  dug  down  under  old  boards, 
brought  up  one  rusty  thole-pin,  one  short  oar  and 
one  long  one,  and  transmitted  us  through  the  back 
bars  to  Walden.  His  sister-iu-law  told  me  after 
wards  that  she  asked  him  when  he  came  in  if  he  had 
been  shutting  Gail  Hamilton  up  in  the  cow-yard,  as 
she  saw  him  putting  up  the  bars.  We  had  a  charm 
ing  walk  to  Walden  Pond,  surrounded  by  trees,  with 
a  railroad  cutting  one  corner  of  it.  All  that  is  left 
of  Thoreau's  house  is  a  little  pulverized  brick  and 
coal.  The  boat  we  found,  but  padlocked  to  a  tree  ; 
the  oars,  stool,  thole-pins,  and  everything  locked 
down.  We  lamented  the  iuhospitality  of  the  owner, 
and  Hawthorne  said,  "  Miss  Dodge,  get  into  the  boat 
and  sit  down  on  this  seat.  Perhaps  he  wouldn't  like 
it !  "  After  walking  half  way  around  the  pond  and 


98       GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

sitting  on  the  grass,  and  talking  and  listening,  we 
discovered  another  boat  at  another  landing,  which 
proved  to  be  Emerson's,  and  which  we  accordingly 
upset  to  get  the  water  out,  and  then  manned  and 
rowed  around  to  our  heart's  content.  That  is,  they 
rowed  and  I  enjoyed,  and  then  we  walked  home  an 
other  way  through  the  woods.  At  five  o'clock  Mr. 
Frank  Sauborn  came  by  appointment  with  his  wife 
and  a  friend,  and  a  carriage,  and  took  me  to  Mr. 
Channing's  back-yard,  where  we  entered  Mr.  Sanboru's 
boat,  and  he  rowed  us  up  Concord  river  through  the 
trees  and  the  birds  and  the  sunset,  and  it  was  very 
beautiful.  Frank  Sanborn  is  the  one  whom  there  was 
such  an  ado  about  in  the  John  Brown  times.  The 
Senate  wanted  him  for  a  witness,  and  he  would  not 
go.  The  two  officers  took  him  by  force,  and  tried  to 
put  him  into  the  carriage,  but  he  braced  his  two  long, 
strong  legs  against  the  carriage,  and  they  had  to  give 
it  up.  The  people  around  there  hid  him,  and  he  never 
went,  I  believe.  Miss  Elizabeth  Hoar  spent  the  even 
ing  with  us.  She  is  one  of  your  lay  angels. 

I  really  want  to  do  something  in  the 

world,  that  it  may  be  the  better  for  my  having  lived 
in  it. 

SEPTEMBER  22. 

I  have  been  reading  "  My  Bondage  and  my 
Freedom  "  by  Fred.  Douglass.  It  is  worth  reading. 
I  think  him  an  extraordinary  man.  I  have  also  read 
"  Sydney  Smith's  Memoir,"  by  his  daughter,  which  I 
also  recommend  to  your  kind  notice  and  considera 
tion.  I  have  bought  a  "  Hallam's  Introduction  to  the 
Literature  of  Europe,"  in  two  volumes,  have  sent  for 
Pascal's  "  Provincial  Letters,"  Percy's  "  Reliques  of 
English  Ballads,"  and  Ellis'  "  Specimens  of  Ancient 


TEACHING  99 

Metrical  Romances,"  all  of  which  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  submit  to  your  judgment  when  the  time  shall  come. 
I  walk  out  almost  every  morning  before  breakfast. 
My  health  is  excellent,  appetite  ravenous.  Sweet 
potatoes  disappear  with  marvellous  rapidit}7.  Have  a 
quarter  of  a  dollar  in  my  drawer  and  defy  the  world. 
I  have  all  the  comforts  and  privileges  of  a  home.  My 
scholars  like  me.  In  fact,  I  think  almost  everybody 
likes  me,  so  if  you  are  all  happy  and  well-to-do  at 
home,  you  need  not  fret  about  me. 

SEPTEMBER  27. 

Mr.  Orcutt  was  in  to  see  me  to-night.  He  has  been 
up  from  New  Haven  to-day,  but  returns  to-night. 
They  will  probably  come  back  again  in  about  a  fort 
night.  Mr.  Beadle  came  to  see  me  the  other  day  at 
the  school-house,  that  is,  he  came  into  Mr.  Tucker's 
and  Miss  Hunt's  class.  I  asked  him  to  come  into 
my  recitation  room  to  see  me,  as  I  had  no  recitation 
that  hour,  so  we  had  a  quiet  little  chit-chat.  He  said 
that  he  wanted  me  to  board  with  him  last  winter,  that 
he  took  a  liking  to  me  from  tho  very  first,  and  had  a 
great  mind  to  propose  it  to  me,  but  was  afraid  I 
should  think  him  officious.  He  said  they  had  a  little 
room  which  they  would  have  fitted  up  for  me  like  a 
princess,  and  many  other  things,  etc.  I  declare  !  do 
you  suppose  he  was  flattering  me?  I  had  a  thought 
to  that  effect,  for  I  don't  see  how  all  he  said  can  be 
true,  but  then  he  is  a  good  Orthodox  minister. 

OCTOBER  5. 

I  cannot  refrain  from  informing  you  of  the  impor 
tant  business  I  have  been  concerned  in  to-day,  which 
is  no  less  than  trimming  my  new  bonnet.  Yes,  I 


100     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

have  done  it  all  myself,  lined,  trimmed  outside  and 
in,  and  I  think  you  would  say  it  is  prettier  than  the 
one  I  had  a  year  ago  which  cost  about  five  dollars,  and 
this  only  ninety  cents  in  nil.  I  like  it  much  better. 

I  was  going  to  drive  to-day  with  Charlotte  Davis, 
but  it  was  so  very  muddy  her  father  thought  we 
would  better  not  go.  It  was  quite  fortunate  we  did 
not,  as  it  has  been  rainy  ever  since  ten  o'clock.  We 
have  had  a  grand  time  at  home.  The  Curtises,  take 
them  together,  are  as  unique  a  family  as  I  ever  saw 
in  my  Ir/e.  I  have  laughed  and  cried  half  the  even 
ing  over  "  nuts  and  cider,"  etc.  Mrs.  Pillsbury  in 
particular,  the  one  who  lives  in  New  York,  is  a  droll 
little  body.  Agnes  I  like  very  well.  I  think  she 
will  be  a  very  useful  and  pleasant  girl  to  have  in  the 
family. 

OCTOBER  20. 

Last  Thursday  eve.  I  found  Charlotte  Davis  in  my 
room  on  my  return  from  school,  and  so  walked  home 
with  her,  and  was  entertained  with  fruit,  etc.  That 
evening  I  found  some  beautiful  little  rosebuds  on  my 
pillow  which  I  put  in  water.  They  opened,  and  still 
rejoice  my  delighted  nose.  The  next  evening  I  sent 
her  a  little  note,  should  you  like  to  read  it?  "Well,  I 
think  I  will  copy  it  and  send  it  to  you  : 

TO    YOU  — IF    YOU    UNDERSTAND    THEM. 
Roses  budding  and  blushing 

When  "  the  skies  are  ashen  and  sober," 
June's  young  fingers  wreathing 

The  swart  brows  of  October  — 
The  dewy  light  of  the  morning 

Gilding  the  evening  hours  — 
Age  bright  with  the  smiles  of  life's  dawning  — 

So  whisper  to  me  your  flowers. 


TEACHING  101 

Childhood's  mysterious  slumbers, 

Wonderful,  dreamy,  deep  — 
Before  the  gaunt  fingers  of  care 

Have  plucked  at  the  robes  of  sleep  — 
Faint  notes  of  a  distant  lyre 

Struck  by  an  unseen  hand, 
Vaguely  remembered  journey  ings 

Into  a  far-off  land 
Over  the  sunset  hills, 

Over  the  ocean  billow, 
Such  are  their  whispers  to  me  — 

The  flowers  you  strewed  on  my  pillow. 

I  accept  the  omen,  and  pray 

That  their  warm  and  roseate  hue 
May  be  but  a  beautiful  symbol 

Of  the  future  that  waiteth  for  you  — 
That  their  purity,  fragrance,  and  sweetness 

May  circle  your  life  till  it  closes  — 
And  we  trace  out  your  path  to  the  heavens  — 

My  love,  by  the  scent  of  the  roses. 

How  do  you  like  it? 

Last  night,  being  in  rather  low  spirits,  and  in  fact 
having  been  so  for  several  days,  I  took  it  into  my 
head  to  go  over  to  Mr.  Beadle's,  and  see  if  they  could 
not  comfort  me  up.  I  found  them  both  at  home  and 
told  them  in  the  first  place  what  1  had  come  for. 
They  were  inexpressibly  kind.  Mr.  B.  sat  down  on 
one  side  of  me,  and  Mrs.  B.  on  the  other,  and  talked, 
and  laughed,  and  consoled  till  1  felt  "better  now." 
Mr.  B.  offered  me  everything  he  had,  told  me  to  come 
there  whenever  I  wanted  to  pass  a  pleasant  hour,  to 
eat,  drink,  or  sleep,  or  anything  I  liked,  and  to  con 
sider  it  a  home.  From  there  I  went  to  Mr.  Olmsted's  to 
tea,  and  had  a  pleasant  time  as  usual.  This  morning 
Mr.  Beadle  came  down  to  my  school  room  to  see  me. 
He  stayed  during  part  of  a  recitation,  and  as  he  was 


102     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

going  out  said  to  me  quietly  in  an  undertone  —  that 
from  the  appearance  of  my  recitation  room,  he  judged 
the  sun  rose  clear  this  morning.  Did  I  tell  you  that 
Mr.  Capron,  the  gentleman  I  met  in  Providence,  and 
who  once  taught  here,  is  engaged  to  Miss  Hooker,  my 
predecessor?  It  is  a  great  secret,  though  everybody 
knows  it.  Some  think  he  is  too  good  for  her,  others 
that  she  is  too  good  for  him.  Mr.  Curtis  thinks  it  a 
grand  match. 

Somebody  said  the  other  day  that  I  was  pretty,  and 
somebody  else  said  to-day  that  I  was  interesting- 
looking.  There,  now,  beat  that  if  you  can  !  How 
fares  it  with  your  infant  scholars  ?  Don't  take  them. 
I  shall  give  up  teaching  here  before  long,  likely 
enough,  and  then  we  will  go  West  together  and  found 
an  Institute  that  shall  astonish  the  world. 

Miss  Hooker,  of  whom  I  spoke  in  my  last  letter, 
was  here  an  hour  or  so.  She  is  a  very  interesting 
woman.  Is  in  some  expectation  of  going  to  the  Ar 
menians  where  Helen  Worcester,  now  Mrs.  Pollard, 
is  going,  and  will  very  likely  be  acquainted  with  her. 
She  has  promised  to  talk  with  her  about  me  should 
such  be  the  case.  She  will  not  go,  however,  till  next 
year. 

OCTOBER  27,  1855. 

I  read  the  report  of  Edward  Everett's  speech,  which 
was  very  fine.  We  had  a  State  Fair  here  about  three 
weeks  ago.  It  lasted  four  days,  three  of  which  we 
had  no  school.  I  went  one  day.  There  were  thirty 
acres  of  land  fenced  off  about  three  miles  out  of  the 
city.  We  went  down  in  a  kind  of  cart  with  rude 
seats  brim  full.  It  was  the  first  time  I  was  ever  at  a 
fair,  and  I  was  quite  interested,  though  I  should  not 


TEACHING  103 

have  gone  but  for  the  intervention  of  others.  I  saw 
a  cucumber  some  five  feet  long,  squashes  that  weighed 
one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  produced  from  one 
seed,  grapes,  apples,  pears,  etc.,  in  tempting  variety. 
I  was  also  considerably  interested  in  the  horse  racing. 
There  were  some  of  the  finest  horses  I  ever  saw,  and 
they  flew  over  the  ground  like  birds.  Last  Saturday 
I  went  to  Newington,  where  one  of  my  scholars  lives. 
His  father  is  a  farmer  with  some  three  hundred  acres 
of  land.  One  acre  he  told  me  produced  one  hundred 
bushels  of  corn  —  I  had  a  very  pleasant  visit.  He 
rowed  me  round  in  a  boat  nearly  two  hours  —  the 
pond  or  river  winds  about  among  the  grand  old  woods, 
and  the  trees,  in  robes  of  scarlet  and  gold,  seemed  to 
be  holding  high  carnival.  I  came  home  loaded  with 
berries,  apples,  leaves,  etc.  We  are  living  here  very 
cosily  by  ourselves,  "keeping  house."  You  know 
Mr.  Curtis  is  married.  His  wife  is  a  gentle  and  lovely 
woman.  As  for  the  vanity  of  the  world  you  must 
remember  that  though  "  all  is  not  gold  that  glitters," 
yet  a  great  deal  that  does  glitter  is  gold.  Because 
you  see  a  woman  ill-dressed,  you  do  not  necessarily 
suppose  her  to  be  a  fool,  neither  should  you  deem  a 
lady  elegantly  dressed  necessarily  one.  Many  a  one 
in  velvet  and  satin  thinks  less  of  dress  than  some  in 
calico  and  linsey  woolsey. 

DECEMBER.   1855. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER  :  I  suppose  by  this  time  you 
have  received  our  joint  letter  giving  a  brief  account 
of  our  Thanksgiving  festival,  which,  pleasant  as  it 
was,  would  have  been  still  pleasauter  had  our  family 
circle  been  complete.  There  are  few  stronger  ties 
than  those  that  bind  members  of  the  same  family 


104    GAIL    HAMILTON'S   LIFE    IN   LETTERS 

"...     who  played 

Beneath  the  same  green  tree, 
Whose  voices  mingled  as  they  prayed 
Around  one  parent  knee," 

and  they  will  bear  much  stretching  before  breaking, 
but  nothing  will  so  polish  the  links  of  the  chain  as 
constant  little  acts  of  kindness,  showing  a  thoughtful 
consideration.  The  older  I  grow,  the  move  firmly 
do  I  believe  1  hat. Christianity,  fully  developed,  will 
not  be  revealed  in  signs  and  wonders,  but  in  the 
peace  and  love  and  harmony  that  will  make  the  whole 
world  one  great  family,  and  all  the  nations  but  as 
children  around  one  hearth-stone.  Let  us  both  never 
cease  to  press  forward  towards  the  mark  for  the  prize 
of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus.  It  is  but 
a  little  way  at  the  longest  to  that  other  world  where  we 
hope  to  have  fewer  clogs  to  our  onward  going,  and 
where  we  shall  be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see  Him  as 
He  is.  The  time  of  "Peace  on  earth  and  good  will 
to  men  "  does  not  seem  to  have  come  yet.  Wars  and 
rumors  of  wars  show  that  man  is  not  yet  ready  for  the 
millennium.  I  watch  with  much  interest  the  accounts 
from  Kansas  and  from  Washington.  If  Slavery 
triumphs  in  this  contest,  I  shall  lose  heart  and  hope, 
—  not  losing  faith  in  the  ultimate  triumph  of  Free 
dom,  —  but  only  fearing  that  our  beloved  country  may 
not  be  the  chosen  scene  for  so  glorious  a  victory. 
God  speed  the  right!  If  I  should  tell  you  I  had 
ordered  a  white  satin  bonnet  with  feathers  and  flowers, 
would  you  think  I  was  utterly  given  up  to  the  vanity 
of  the  world?  We  are  having  the  most  delightfully 
mild,  sunshiny  weather,  not  at  all  like  our  New  Eng 
land  winter.  I  have  been  quite  comfortable  in  my 
room  without  a  fire.  Mr.  Curtis  has  just  brought  me 


TEACHING  105 

in  a  clipper  of  sweet  cider,   wherewith  I  drink  your 
health.     We  had  plenty  of  it  at  home. 

I  must  tell  you  first  a  little  event  which  has  this 
minute  come  to  a  conclusion.  You  have  heard  me 
speak  of  Agnes.  She  is  a  very  fine  girl,  an  uncom 
monly  respectable  girl  about  my  own  age,  a  great 
singer,  with  not  an  overabundant  stock  of  pecuniary 
means.  I  heard  her  saying  the  other  day  how  much 
she  wanted  a  "  Plymouth  Collection/'  which  is  Henry 
Ward  Beecher's  new  Hymn  Book,  so  I  thought  I 
would  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  surprising  her,  and 
bought  one.  Do  you  want  to  know  what  I  wrote  in 
it?  Well,  here  it  is.  I  don't  suppose  you  will  care 
much  about  it,  but  I  will  run  the  risk. 

i  pray  not  that  the  years  may  pass 

Unnoticed  o'er  thy  brow, 
That  the  burden  of  life  may  never  weigh 

More  heavily  than  now. 
'Twere  wishing  the  pulse  of  a  selfish  heart 

Or  the  sloth  of  a  sluggard  brain, 
For  the  careless  joy  of  thy  childhood  hours 

Shall  never  return  again. 
And  the  mind  that  thinks  and  the  heart  that  feels 

Bears  ever  a  secret  pain. 
We  must  pass  from  the  mystery  of  to-day 

"With  a  pang  of  nameless  sorrow, 
Into  the  greater  mystery 

Of  the  unrevealed  to-morrow. 

Nor  do  I  pray  that  thine  onward  way 

Shall  demand  no  earnest  toil, 
For  how  can  he  reap  in  the  harvest  time 

Who  has  never  prepared  the  soil? 
Or  the  cry  of  a  wailing  world  be  hushed 

By  sitting  in  silence  down  — 
Or  they  \vho  have  never  borne  the  cross 

Be  fitted  to  wear  the  crown? 


106     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Nay,  thy  strength  sluill  wane,  and  thy  light  grow  dim, 

If  thy  soul  at  ease  reposes, 
For  the  stout  of  heart  and  the  strong  of  limb 

Rest  not  on  a  bed  of  roses. 

But  I  pray,  Agnes,  that  thy  life  may  flow 

Harmoniously  along, 
Like  the  grand  and  perfect  symphony 

Of  a  noble  and  stirring  song. 
That  thine  earnest  work  and  thine  earnest  rest 

Thy  joy  and  thy  woe  may  be 
Commingled  in  a  choral  tide 

Of  spirit-full  melody. 
And  thy  voice  attuned  'mid  many  tears 

In  the  darkness  of  Earth's  long  even, 
King  out  with  the  rapture  of  new-found  bliss 

In  the  glorious  dawn  of  Heaven. 

JANUARY  12,  1856. 

Yesterday  noon  I  took  my  carpet  sack  and  went  to 
Meriden.  This  morning  as  I  was  sitting  on  the 
lounge  without  any  dress  on,  as  I  wore  my  shawl  and 
skirt  for  a  morning  dress,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Hatch  drove 
up  to  the  door.  You  must  know  that  the  said  doctor 
has  taken  a  fancy  to  me  !  and  evinced  it  in  very  many 
ways.  I  met  him  at  a  picnic  when  I  was  in  M.  a 
year  ago  last  summer.  I  thought,  however,  that  at 
this  time  I  was  not  in  the  most  advantageous  circum 
stances  to  keep  up  the  impression.  The  room,  too, 
with  the  three  children,  their  various  clothes  and 
playthings,  was  not  quite  in  the  best  order,  but  under 
Abby's  energetic  hand  the  things  disappeared  under 
the  lounge  and  into  the  kitchen  with  astonishing  rap 
idity.  I  gave  one  leap  nearly  across  the  room,  and 
was  upstairs  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  —  whence 
issuing,  robed  and  combed,  I  extended  to  Dr.  Hatch 


TEACHING  107 

as  warm  a  welcome  as  was  becoming,  and  spent  a 
cheery  half  hour  in  discussing  the  affairs  of  the  nation 
in  general. 

HARTFORD,  CONN.,  January  17,  1856. 

MR.  BAILEY  :  Sir,  —  If  you  are  not  in  a  mood  to 
be  disturbed  I  beg  you  to  take  out  the  postage  stamp 
which  I  enclose  with  this  —  burn  the  whole  package, 
and  send  me  word  immediately  that  you  have  done 
so.  Direct,  if  you  please,  to  Box  No.  747,  Hartford, 
Conn. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  I  may  be  allowed  to  occupy 
a  half  hour  of  your  valuable  time  —  allow  me  to  say 
at  once  that  I  desire  to  become  a  contributor  to  the 
"  Era,"  if  I  am  worthy.  It  is  quite  useless  to  men 
tion  the  agency  of  friends  in  inducing  me  to  this  step, 
as  you  have  probably  heard  that  a  thousand  times, 
and  moreover  all  the  friends  in  the  world  could  not 
move  me  to  it  against  my  own  sweet  will.  Neither 
do  I  write  entirely  for  money,  as  at  this  particular 
juncture  I  am  tolerably  well  off,  though  an  income  of 
five  hundred  dollars  and  an  expenditure  of  one  thou 
sand  will  sometimes  produce  embarrassment.  But  I 
wish  to  measure  myself  by  a  new  standard.  I  have 
been  flattered  from  my  youth  up  till  I  have  perhaps 
learned  to  flatter  myself.  May  I  beg  that  your  prac 
tised  eye  glance  over  the  pages  that  accompany  this 
and  see  whether  they  be  of  sufficient  merit  to  interest 
your  readers,  or  whether  the  hand  that  wrote  them  is 
capable  of  producing  anything  of  real  worth  ? 

I  hope  I  am  not  misunderstood.  I  do  not  ask  for 
charity,  nor  for  a  friendly  judgment,  but  for  a  just  one. 
If  you  think  the  pieces  worthless,  you  will  not  hesi 
tate  to  say  so  and  I  promise  not  to  drown  myself 


108     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

thereupon.  If  you  think  they  are  good,  but  not 
adapted  to  your  paper,  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  even 
that. 

If  you  consider  them  worth  insertion,  but  not  worth 
remuneration,  I  shall  be  glad  also  and  willing  to  send 
more  on  the  same  terms  as  long  as  you  think  best  — 
or  as  shortly. 

If  they  are  worth  being  paid  for  I  shall  be  happy  to 
receive  their  market  value. 

I  want  an  end  and  aim  in  life,  and  see  no  other  way 
to  obtain  it. 

May  I  request  an  answer,  even  if  you  should  decline 
any  farther  communication  ? 

I  have  occasionally  "  rushed  into  print,"  but  have 
never  made  any  stated  engagement.  The  prose  arti 
cle  was  written  more  than  a  year  ago  and  has  been 
seen  by  several  persons.  If  you  print  it  at  all,  pray 
say  nothing  whatever  about  it,  and  of  all  things  do 
not  say  anything  about  this  to  anybody  in  public  or 
private,  as  my  happiness  in  life  will  be  blotted  out 
forever  if  this  circumstance  should  ever  come  to  the 
eyes  or  ears  of  any  of  my  friends.  The  utmost 
secrecy  is  the  only  thing  which  I  insist  on.  I  should 
be  very  glad  to  withhold  my  name,  but  if  it  is  at  all 
necessary  to  the  transaction  of  business,  I  will  divulge 
at  once.  If  you  would  not  deem  it  impertinent,  may 
I  request  a  reply  as  soon  as  your  convenience  will 
allow  ? 

I  am  a  woman,  twenty-two  years  old.  Direct  to 
Box  747,  Hartford,  Conn. 

Yours  respectfully, 

SEVEN  FOUTY-SEVEN. 


TEACHING  109 

JANUARY  17,  '56. 

(P.S.)  I  do  not  take  the  "National  Era"  and 
have  not  seen  it  for  a  year.  If  my  articles  are  pub 
lished,  will  you  send  me  a  copy?  Do  not  fail  to 
reply  privately  to  this  letter  even  if  your  engagements 
give  you  time  only  to  say  "no"  and  I  shall  be  placed 
under  everlasting  obligations. 

The  printed  morcecm  was  printed  without  my  knowl 
edge  or  consent,  but  I  have  seen  it  copied  into  four 
different  papers  in  as  many  States,  which  was  one 
encouragement  for  me  to  make  this  attack  on  you. 
Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  return  it  to  me,  as  I  bor 
rowed  it  from  a  friend. 

JANUARY  23. 

My  DEAR  PARENTS  :  I  wonder  what  you  would  say 
if  you  knew  what  I  have  been  doing.  Something  I 
never  did  before  in  my  life  —  even  dancing !  Waltz 
ing  !  WhatwnM  come  of  it?  Health,  I  hope.  When 
I  boarded  at  Mrs.  O's,  they  used  to  joke  me  about  a 
young  man  who  belonged  to  the  firm,  and  say  they 
should  invite  him  there  to  see  me.  Shortly  after,  how 
ever,  he  married  a  Southern  lady.  About  a  week  ago 
the  wife  died,  three  days  after  giving  birth  to  a  beautiful 
little  girl.  Mrs.  0.  has  taken  much  care  of  her,  and 
is  nearly  tired  out.  The  lady  left  letters  to  her  child 
—  one  for  every  birthday  from  her  tenth  to  her  nine 
teenth,  also  for  the  day  she  should  join  the  church, 
and  for  her  wedding-day.  A  lady  has  been  here, 
sister  of  one  of  our  scholars,  from  Pennsylvania. 
She  is  anxious  to  get  a  teacher  to  return  with  her  to 
take  charge  of  their  school.  I  don't  know  but  that  I 
should  go  myself  if  music  were  not  requisite.  I  had 
a  letter  from  Amanda  Hall  this  morning.  I  had 


110     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

asked  her  advice  about  choosing  a  blue  or  a  black  silk 
dress.  She  advises  a  black  by  all  means,  as  do  all 
my  friends  here.  Black,  then,  it  must  be.  Flounces, 
or  double  skirt,  mother,  which?  One  says  three 
narrow  flounces  trimmed  with  gimp.  Another  says  a 
double  skirt  trimmed  with  broad  plush.  Another 
still,  flounces  patterned,  etc.  Abby  Dodge  says  a 
plain  skirt  with  no  trimming  at  all  —  and  plain  it  shall 
be.  It  is  nearly  eleven  and  my  fingers  are  somewhat 
stiff,  not  to  mention  my  wrists,  which  I  tried  with  Mr. 
Curtis  a  short  time  making  futile  attempts  for  an  hour 
or  so  to  box  his  ears,  and  getting  my  own  soundly 
boxed  instead.  It  was  grand  exercise,  however.  If 
I  could  have  as  much  every  day  I  should  be  the  better 
for  it.  Good  night.  May  God  bless  you  and  keep 
you! 

Affectionately, 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

JANUARY  30,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER  :  I  generally  sit  down  and 
answer  your  letter  immediately  upon  receiving  it,  but 
I  have  of  late  been  so  busy  that  I  was  quite  unable 
to  do  so.  I  have  four  classes  —  all  extremely  inter 
esting.  Two  of  them  are  in  English  Literature,  ex 
tending  from  the  first  history  of  Great  Britain  to  the 
present  time.  All  the  books  of  any  note  through  all 
those  hundreds  of  years  pass  in  review  before  us,  and 
I  need  a  hundred  eyes  to  read  them.  A  good  many 
of  them  I  have  read,  but  by  far  many  more  I  have 
not.  Of  course  I  wish  to  prepare  myself  as  well  as 
possible.  In  addition  to  this  I  am  studying  German, 
and  have  a  great  many  little  cares  in  school  which  no 
one  but  a  teacher  —  and  a  good  teacher — knows. 


TEACHING  HI 

There  is,  moreover,  once  in  three  weeks,  a  paper 
issued  from  the  High  School,  edited  nominally  by 
members  of  the  school,  but  really  by  your  humble 
servant  and  affectionate  sister.  You  will  at  once  see 
that  I  have  no  superfluous  leisure.  Twelve  o'clock 
P.M.  finds  me  quite  as  often  with  wakeful  as  with 
closed  eyes.  I  have  taken  little  or  no  exercise,  but 
finding  that  this  will  never  do,  I  am  —  guess  what ! 
Learning  to  dance  !  It  is  even  so.  It  is  the  best  of 
exercise. 

We  took  a  Saturday  evening  a  week  or  two  ago  and 
visted  Waugh's  Panorama  of  Italy.  It  is  certainly 
well  worth  seeing.  I  felt  enkindled  in  me  the  old 
longing  —  smothered  but  not  extinguished  —  to  visit 
those  classic  lands  "  famed  in  song  and  story."  "  To 
stand  one  moonlight  eve  by  Tasso's  bower  —  From 
Virgil's  tomb  to  pluck  a  single  flower."  It  is  sad  to 
look  upon  the  ruins  of  a  mighty  and  spendid  Past,  to 
think  of  the  skies  that  once  arched  the  noble  forms  of 
the  proud  children  of  art  and  song,  now  but  the  pall 
of  their  dead  glory.  After  the  exhibition,  a  puppet 
show  brought  me  down  with  a  jerk  from  the  regions 
of  romance  to  reality. 

You  spoke  in  one  of  your  letters  of  Fanny  Fern. 
She  is  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Willis,  the  editor  of  the 
"  Youth's  Companion,"  whom  I  believe  you  knew. 
She  is  consequently  the  sister  of  N.  P.  Willis,  of  the 
"Home  Journal."  When  a  girl  she  attended  the 
Seminary  here,  the  one  where  I  was  before  I  came  to 
the  High  School.  She  married  one  husband,  who 
died;  a  second,  and  separated  from  him.  She  has 
lately  married  a  Mr.  Partou,  who  wrote  the  "  Life  of 
Horace  Greeley." 

I  am  afraid  I  run  the  risk  of  losing  your  friendship 


112     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

entirely  if  I  tell  you  that,  in  addition  to  the  "  white 
satin  bonnet  with  feathers  aud  llowers,"  I  have  bought 
a  black  silk  dress  !  AVell-a-day,  it  is  the  first  new 
dross  I  have  had  for  nearly  two  years.  How  many  of 
your  acquaintances  can  say  the  same?  1  have  as 
many  as  I  want,  however.  Do  you  still  take  the  "  Life 
Illustrated  "  ?  If  you  keep  the  numbers,  and  will  look 
at  No.  61  for  Dec.  29,  1855,  you  will  see  a  piece  of 
miue,  headed  "  I  didn't  know  what  it  meant."  I 
have  seen  it  copied  into  several  different  papers  in 
New  York,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  etc.,  though  I  don't 
know  how  it  got  into  any  of  them.  Good  night,  and 
may  God  bless  you  and  keep  you,  is  the  prayer  of 
your  affectionate  sister ! 

FEBRUARY  G. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  took  your  letter  from  the 
office  yesterday.  I  read  it  at  school.  Miss  Hunt 
was  sitting  by  me.  She  said,  "  What  pretty  writing 
that  is  !  "  I  said,  "  It  is  from  my  mother."  She  was 
surprised,  and  said  J  could  not  write  so  well.  I  am 
so  tired.  I  gave  up  entirely  this  morning.  Sent  my 
class  out  at  half-past  eleven,  and  had  a  cry.  1  am 
not  sick,  nothing  in  particular  is  the  matter,  but  1  am 
so  tired,  tired  of  learning  lessons,  tired  of  teaching 
them,  tired  of  going  to  school  at  nine  o'clock  every  day, 
tired  of  never  visiting  anybody,  tired  of  going  from 
one  thing  to  another  just  as  fast  as  I  can,  tired  of 
being  in  a  whirl  all  the  time,  tired  of  school,  tired  of 
everything  —  almost.  It  is  of  no  use  for  you  to  say 
"don't  do  so" — as  long  as  I  teach,  I  shall  do  so. 
It  amuses  me  to  see  the  scholars  when  anything  is  the 
matter  with  me.  They  are  so  accustomed  to  see  me 
gay  and  lively  and  cheerful.  One-  of  my  boys  came 


TEACHING  113 

into  the  recitation  room  this  noon  —  my  face  was  invisi 
ble,  but  he  saw  there  was  something  wrong  —  "  You  are 
not  well  to-day,  Miss  Dodge."  No  reply,  and  away 
he  went.  Presently  another  comes,  a  tall,  handsome 
fellow.  He  stood  in  perfect  astonishment.  "  Miss 
Dodge.  Why,  Miss  Dodge !  Show  me  the  man ! 
Where  is  he?  I'll  fight  him."  Girls  are  less  chival- 
ric  but  more  affectionate  in  their  demonstrations. 
Mr.  Curtis  came  —  I  assured  him  that  nothing  in  par 
ticular  was  the  matter,  only  everything  in  general.  He 
strokes  my  hair,  and  says,  "  petty  ittil  keeter,"  and 
punches,  and  pokes,  and  comforts,  and  scolds,  but  is 
evidently  glad  it  is  only  a  "  tantrum,"  a  "  woman's 
fit."  Oh  !  dear.  Now  don't  make  yourself  unhappy 
about  this,  for  I  dare  say  by  the  time  you  read  it  I 
shall  be  right  side  up  again. 

I  was  in  particular  need  of  exercise,  but  have  now 
benefited  by  the  exercise.  I  had  a  little  walk  with 
Rev.  Dr.  Hawes,  to-night,  and  a  pleasant  little  chat  in 
a  book  store  with  Judge  Parsons.  I  went  to  a  lect 
ure  a  night  or  two  since  with  Mr.  Tucker,  to  hear 
Elihu  Burritt,  the  learned  blacksmith,  who  knows 
fifty-three  languages.  Last  Saturday  I  spent  partly 
in  making  a  purse  for  which  Mrs.  Warburton  gave 
me  some  silk  for  a  lining.  Agnes  has  just  put  up 
her  writing,  for  she  says  two  write  so  fast  that  she 
can't  write  at  the  same  time.  Mr.  Beadle  sent  five 
dollars  the  other  day  to  be  given  for  a  prize  for  the 
best  composition  to  be  read  at  the  spring  examina 
tion.  Mr.  Curtis  told  Mr.  Smith,  and  he  gave  fifteen 
more  for  composition  and  declamation.  Tace  Ward- 
well,  and  a  cousin  of  Miss  Crocker's,  came  to  the 
High  School  last  Friday,  P.M.,  to  hear  my  class  in 
English  Literature,  but  as  it  does  not  recite  Fridays 


114    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

they  came  in  and  heard  the  declamations,  and  the 
paper,  and  also  a  dialogue  from  Shakespeare  spoken 
by  several  of  the  boys,  and  were  very  much  inter 
ested.  Mrs.  Judge  Matson  was  there  also,  and  gave 
me  a  very  warm  invitation  to  visit  her.  I  hope  you 
go  out  whenever  you  can  during  this  weather.  I  sup 
pose  it  must  be  pretty  cold,  as  your  furnace  does  not 
warm  the  whole  house.  I  do  not  think  we  shall  have 
a  vacation,  though  it  does  not  seem  to  me  that  I  can 
keep  on  ten  weeks  longer.  Would  you  come  back  in 
the  spring? 


IV 
BEGINNINGS    OF    AUTHORSHIP 

1856-1858 


115 


IV 

BEGINNINGS    OF    AUTHORSHIP 

1856-1858 

FEBRUARY  15,   1856. 

MY  DEAR  SISTER  :  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  story. 
You  know  I  went  to  Meriden  a  few  weeks  ago.  You 
know  also  that  our  cousin  is  somewhat  of  a  literary 
person.  She  wanted  me  to  write  —  for  the  public  ; 
thought  it  was  a  sin  that  I  should  not  improve  my 
talents,  etc.  I  said  Well,  what  shall  I  do?  She  said, 
"  Write  at  once  to  Dr.  Bailey  of  the  '  National  Era.' " 
I  thought  upon  her  words,  and  after  I  came  home 
wrote  to  the  gentleman  aforesaid.  I  sent  a  copy  of 
"Hair,"  and  several  pieces  of  poetry.  Well,  one, 
two,  three  weeks  passed  away  and  I  came  to  the  con 
clusion  that  my  letter  and  its  valuable  contents  were 
consigned  to  oblivion,  but  last  night  I  took  a  letter 
from  my  box  addressed  to  "  Seven  Forty-Seven"  and 
mailed  "  Washington,  D.C."  You  see  I  had  not  told 
my  real  name,  but  directed  him  to  address  Box  747. 
I  walked  leisurely  home,  went  upstairs  quietly,  lit  my 
gas  composedly,  and  then  —  I  opened  the  letter  and 
read  : 

"Seven  Forty  Seven"  must  pardon  the  delay  in  an 
swering  her  delightfully  independent  letter.     My  answer 
will  be  a  short  one.     Your  contributions  are  acceptable 
and  accepted  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  "  Era,"  and  filed  for 
117 


118     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

insertion.  But  the  compensation  is  another  thing.  For 
cogent  reasons,  which  I  need  not  now  specify,  I  have  been 
obliged  for  the  last  year  to  be  rigidly  economical.  The 
same  reasons  compel  me  to  pursue  the  same  course  the 
present  year. 

After  that  I  shall  be  easy  and  be  prepared  once  more  to 
be  liberal.  If  you  can  afford  to  wait  I  will  on  the  first 
week  of  next  December  send  you  a  remittance  of  fifty 
dollars,  for  which  you  may  send  me  whatever  you  please 
in  your  best  style  of  prose  sketches,  at  any  time  between 
this  and  then.  When  I  tell  you  that  I  have  on  hand 
articles  already  paid  for  enough  to  fill  fifty  columns,  and 
that  my  list  of  paid  contributors  is  never  crowded,  you 
will  not  wonder  at  my  proposition.  But  the  truth  is,  your 
pen  is  not  a  commonplace  one. 

I  hope  now  that  "  Seven  Forty-Seven  "  will  introduce 
herself  to  me  with  her  own  name,  which  I  am  sure  must 
be  a  worthy  one. 

With  friendly  sentiments, 

I  remain,  yours  etc., 

G.  BAILEY. 

Tliis  is  the  substance  of  the  letter.  I  was  quite 
overwhelmed  by  such  an  answer,  besides  being  fright 
ened  out  of  my  senses.  I  never  can  write  fifty  dollars' 
worth  between  now  and  December,  for  I  don't  have 
time.  I  am  just  as  busy  as  I  can  be  with  school  duties 
from  morning  till  night.  But  don't  you  think  it  a 
generous  offer  ?  You  see  they  say  I  may  send  just 
when  I  please.  I  ought  to  scud  enough  to  make  it 
about  five  dollars  a  column,  I  think.  Now  don't  tell 
anybody  of  this.  I  hesitated  about  telling  you,  but 
finally  concluded  I  would  as  a  proof  of  my  love  for 
you  and  confidence  in  you.  I  have  told  Mr.  — 
and  shall  tell  A.  R.,  because  she  induced  me  to  do  it. 
You  may  send  this  to  father  and  mother,  and  upon 


BEGINNINGS   OF  AUTHORSHIP  H9 

no  account  is  anybody  else  to  know  anything  about  it 
at  present.  I  have  also  entered  into  an  engagement 
to  write  for  the  "Independent,"  for  which  they  will 
pay  me  three  dollars  a  column.  The  first  piece  was 
published  a  week  or  two  ago.  I  sent  the  paper  to 

mother.      Mr. says  it  is  too  little,    but  I   am 

perfectly  satisfied.  A.  R.  says  the  honor  of  writing 
for  the  "  Independent"  is  enough  without  any  money. 
If  I  once  get  my  name  up  you  know  I  can  do  any 
thing.  This,  too,  is  a  profound  secret.  I  did  not 
tell  A.  R.  Now  don't  suppose  I  shall  do  any  great 
things  all  of  a  sudden.  With  all  1  have  to  do  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  write  much,  but  it  is  something 
to  have  an  outlet  provided  in  case  I  do  overflow. 
The  "  National  Era"  is  no  mean  paper.  Grace  Green 
wood  and  John  G.  Whittier  write  for  it,  and  Mrs. 
Stowe's  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  first  appeared  in  it, 
and  /  feel  quite  complimented  to  be  received  so  cor 
dially  on  my  own  recommendation.  If  I  had  time  I 
think  I  could  do  something  in  the  way  of  writing. 

HARTFORD,  CONN.,  February  18,  1856. 
MR.   BAILEY  : 

DEAR  SIR  :  I  am  astonished !  I  am  overwhelmed  ! 
I  am  on  my  knees  to  you  (metaphysically)  !  I  am 
blushing  furiously  at  the  savage  ferocity  of  my  last 
letter.  I  can  never  write  fifty,  dollars'  worth  in  the 
world.  I  must  say,  sir,  I  think  you  have  made  a  very 
rash  bargain.  I  don't  believe  you  consulted  Mrs. 
Bailey.  Why,  suppose  now  I  choose  to  send  only  one 
article  between  now  and  next  December,  don't  you  see 
you  will  have  to  pay  all  the  same  ?  I  have  always  con 
sidered  myself  a  genius.  My  friends  have  uniformly 
cherished  the  same  belief,  but  now  this  temple  of  faith  is 
shaken  to  its  veiy  foundations,  and  I  am  under  the  calam 
itous  necessity  of  classing  myself  Avith  the  common  money- 


120     ("JAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

making  herd.  For,  sir,  Genius  is  always  repulsed, 
always  Genius  goes  clad  in  russet  fluttering  with  rags, 
only  Mediocrity  rustles  in  silk.  When  Genius  is  the 
centre  of  the  wheel  of  life,  gold  has  a  far  greater  centri 
fugal  than  centripetal  attraction.  But  if  Gold  and 
Grandeur  are  to  be  ruy  fate,  I  will  endeavor  to  bear  it 
with  a  very  great  degree  of  Christian  resignation. 

I  have  not  the  slightest  objection  to  waiting  till  next 
December.  I  am  in  no  particular  need  of  money.  But  I 
am  really  afraid  I  shall  not  come  up  to  what  you  desire. 
I  have  no  idea  what  my  "  best  style  "  is  —  in  fact  I  am 
quite  unconscious  of  having  any  style  at  all.  The  cor 
diality  and  kindness  of  your  letter,  for  which  I  do  assure 
you  I  thank  you  most  heartily,  have  quite  banished  every 
thought  from  my  head  and  left  it  in  the  precise  state  of  a 
squeezed  orange,  but  I  will  do  my  best,  and  if  you  are 
not  satisfied  it  shall  be  all  the  same  as  if  you  had  never 
written — only  you  won't  have  poetry  —  that  is  too  bad, 
for  it  is  a  thousand  times  easier  to  write  than  prose. 

If  you  really  have  any  curiosity  to  know  my  name  I 
will  tell  you,  but  it  is  a  shocking  one.  I  mean  to  change 
it  as  soon  as  possible.  It  is,  however,  a  consolation  to 
reflect  that  if  the  name  confers  no  honor  on  "  my  family," 
"  my  family  "  make  the  name  respectable. 

And  I  remain,  sir,  yours  very  truly, 

MARY  ABBY  DODGE  —  but  don't  tell. 


Miss  Hunt  took  me  aside  yesterday  and  said  she 
had  something  to  tell  me  —  that  she  had  seen  two 
pieces  of  mine  in  the  "National  Era,"  that  her 
sister  knew  they  were  mine  because  one  of  them  had 
appeared  in  the  school  paper  and  they  both  had  the 
same  signature.  As  my  articles  are  printed,  or  being 
printed,  I  shall  have  to  bestir  myself  to  get  something 
more  ready  for  forwarding.  One  of  our  old  gradu 
ates  has  just  called  on  me.  I  cannot  yet  tell  how 


BEGINNINGS   OF   AUTHORSHIP  121 

matters  and  things  will  go  in  the  school,  but  at  pres 
ent  they  wear  a  promising  aspect.  I  should  like  a 
hot  brown-bread  cake  for  breakfast,  if  you  please, 
with  good  fresh  butter  melted  in  and  a  good  deal  of 
it.  Good-night,  my  dear  father  and  mother.  The 
mother  of  two  of  our  pupils  called  while  I  was  gone, 
told  how  much  their  boys  liked  the  teachers,  and  "  as 
for  Miss  Dodge  —  she  was  an  oracle." 
There's  something  for  you  to  sleep  on. 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

ABBY. 

MAY  20,   1856. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  snatch  a  moment  before  going 
out  to  tell  you  that  I  do  not  study  at  all  after  school, 
that  is,  I  do  not  study  for  school.  I  go  to  bed  early 
and  rise  early.  I  do  not  intend  to  work  as  I  did  last 
term,  and  I  do  not.  I  shall  take  it  easier  a  great 
deal.  My  classes  are  interesting,  and  the  scholars 
interested.  I  heard  Edward  Everett  deliver  his 
lecture  on  Washington,  Wednesday  evening.  It 
was  a  splendid  thing  —  very  characteristic.  Tuesday 
evening  I  attended  a  chemical  lecture.  Last  evening 
a  church  lecture.  This  evening  another  chemical. 
So  you  see  I  have  been  somewhat  dissipated  this 
week. 

MAY  24,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER  :  Yesterday  morn 
ing  when  I  put  my  letter  into  the  office,  I  took  yours 
out.  1  think  it  was  very  kind  and  motherly  for  you  to 
begin  to  write  that  very  day.  It  is  the  better  way, 
because  a  great  many  things  that  are  really  interest 
ing  fade  away  from  the  mind  immediately,  are  pushed 


122     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

aside  by  the  little  things  of  the  next  day.  In  the 
evening  I  went  to  another  chemical  lecture.  The 
experiments  were  very  interesting.  Mr.  Beadle  was 
standing  by  the  door  when  we  came  in  and  he  joined 
us  and  sat  with  me.  They  had  a  bullock's  head  just 
cut  off,  with  the  horns  and  all  on,  to  illustrate  the 
galvanic  battery.  I  am  afraid  father  would  not  like 
to  have  so  many  fire  experiments  in  his  house.  Some 
of  the  light  was  almost  as  bright  as  the  sun,  making 
gas-light  look  red  and  dull.  After  dinner  Mr.  Curtis 
came  and  called  me  to  go  to  drive  with  himself,  wife, 
and  Mr.  Beadle.  So  Abby  Dodge,  in  a  white  waist, 
plaid  silk  skirt,  white  bonnet,  and  silk  mantilla, 
started.  It  grew  cooler,  but  was  dusty.  We  went 
to  "  Rocky  Hill,"  particularly  to  see  the  geological 
formation.  It  is  one  of  the  best  places  in  the  country 
for  that  purpose.  We  found  several  interesting  spec 
imens —  one  in  particular  we  brought  home  with  us 
about  a  yard  long,  a  foot  wide,  and  perhaps  half  a 
foot  thick.  It  was  the  shape  of  a  parallelogram. 
They  all  have  a  tendency  to  break  off  in  this  shape. 
It  was  somewhat  heavy,  requiring  the  strength  of 
both  men  to  get  it  into  the  carriage.  Its  particular 
interest  was  this  :  Thousands  of  thousands  of  years 
ago,  this  rock  was  sand  on  the  sea  shore  —  that  is, 
the  sea  came  up  to  where  the  sand  of  this  rock  was. 
Of  course  it  was  damp  and  soft.  Well,  there  came 
up  a  little  April  shower,  such  as  we  often  have,  and 
of  course  the  drops  falling  made  little  dents  in  the  soft 
sand.  Of  course  it  was  not  a  very  heavy  shower. 
Well,  this  sand  in  process  of  time  hardened  and 
became  rock,  but  the  little  dents  are  still  there  !  made 
nobody  knows  how  many  years  ago.  One  of  my  boys 
brought  me  to-night  a  ring  which  he  had  made  himself 


BEGINNINGS  OF  AUTHORSHIP  123 

with  a  penknife  from  the  tooth  of  a  whale.  He  had 
also  carved  a  little  anchor  on  the  outside  of  it.  He 
is  one  of  the  ingenious  kind.  What  do  you  think  of 
Senator  Sumner's  being  beaten  so  in  the  Senate 
Chamber?  I  don't  know  what  we  are  coming  to. 
We  are  in  great  indignation  here.  Dr.  Hawes  made  a 
call  here  last  evening.  I  went  up  to  Mr.  Capron's 
Tuesday  eve.  and  had  a  long  talk  with  him  about  the 
existing  state  of  affairs  in  the  country.  Lamentable, 
to  be  sure  !  I  don't  think  it  is  of  very  much  use  to 
stay  any  longer  in  the  High  School,  as  the  boys  would 
better  be  learning  to  hold  muskets,  and  the  girls  to 
make  bullets.  Did  you  see  in  the  paper  a  copy  of  the 
resolutions  of  the  Connecticut  Legislature?  "Con 
necticut  sends  to  Massachusetts  fraternal  greetings." 
I  shall  send  with  this  a  paper  containing  a  notice  of 
a  new  story  by  Sylvanus  Cobb,  Jr.  Augusta :  I 
don't  know  when  my  mind  will  be  sufficiently  calm  to 
spout  for  your  rising  generation,  but,  just  at  present, 
nay  thoughts  all  tend  politics-wise. 
Good  morning  to  you  all,  from 

Yours  affectionately, 

ABBY  DODGE. 

JUNE  10. 

Col.  Sam.  Colt  was  married  last  Thursday  to  a 
Miss  Jarvis,  of  Middletown,  and  I  had  the  honor  of 
eating  some  of  the  wedding-cake.  He  chartered  a 
boat  to  take  his  Hartford  friends  to  the  wedding,  and 
a  train  of  cars  to  bring  his  New  York  friends.  He 
gave  her  a  diamond  necklace  and  each  of  the  brides 
maids  a  diamond  ring.  She  is  the  daughter  of  an 
Episcopal  minister.  Her  dress  was  white  moire  an 
tique  silk,  with  two  flounces  half  a  yard  wide  of  point 


124     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

lace,  cape,  veil,  etc.,  all  of  point  lace.  Col.  Colt  was 
confirmed  at  the  Episcopal  Church  the  Sunday  before 
he  was  married.  They  sailed  on  Saturday  for 
Europe  to  be  gone  a  year ;  one  of  her  sisters  accom 
panied  them.  Mr.  John  Olmsted  with  his  family  is 
going  to  Europe  the  first  of  July,  and  he  said  he 
should  like  to  have  me  of  all  persons  go  with  them, 
because  I  had  an  inquiring  mind,  and  my  young 
head  would  see  a  great  many  things  which  his  would 
not.  I  was  up  this  morning  at  half-past  four,  deter 
mined  to  get  my  piece  done  if  I  did  not  go  to  school 
for  the  morning.  I  finished  it,  however,  carried  it  to 
the  office,  and  reached  school  just  in  time. 

JUNE  21. 

MY  DEAR  :  My  heart  was  made  glad  by  the  recep 
tion  of  a  letter  from  you  last  evening,  and  really  I 
must  say  I  was  astonished  by  the  criticism  of  the 
"Biography  of  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan"  —so 
much  good  sense,  right  feeling,  correct  principle,  and 
practical  woman's  insight  into  the  hidden  nature  of 
things,  and  all  so  well,  so  nervously  and  clearly  and 
tersely  expressed.  Why,  I  think  you  might  excel  as  a 
reviewer  would  you  but  turn  your  attention  that  way 
ward.  I  am  forced  to  confess  that  your  opinions 
concerning  Sheridan  coincide  very  nearly  with  my 
own.  His  life  affords  another  lamentable  example  of 
great  talents  misapplied,  great  powers  perverted,  and 
the  inevitable  and  distant  future  absorbed  by  the 
present.  But  is  it  true  that  in  all  this  there  is  no 
lesson  for  us?  Is  it  not  from  the  shipwreck  of  others 
that  we  must  learn  to  steer  our  own  barque  from  the 
rocks?  Moreover,  there  is  an  intrinsic  value  and 
there  is  a  relative  value.  A  rosebud  is  u  beautiful 


BEGINNINGS   OF   AUTHORSHIP  125 

thing,  but  there  are  thousands  of  them,  and  one  rose 
bud  is  just  like  another,  and  we  wear  them  till  they 
are  withered  and  then  fling  them  aside.  But  ah  !  the 
rosebud  that  Corydon  plucked,  and  with  his  own 
hands  placed  in  Chloe's  dark  hair,  is  to  her  the  dear 
est  thing  on  earth  —  to  be  treasured  in  her  memory 
and  her  heart,  and  the  secret  place  where  her  soul 
abideth  will  be  filled  forever  with  the  fragrance  of  its 
perfume.  So  of  Sheridan  ;  the  interest  which  his 
life  and  character  failed  to  impart  will  be  found  in 
the  position  he  occupied.  Standing  as  he  did  fore 
most  among  orators,  foremost  among  dramatists,  he 
filled  his  two-fold  niche  to  the  glory  of  his  country. 
Nor  must  you  judge  his  life  by  his  death.  Success  is 
not  the  criterion  of  merit.  Jesus  Christ  died  upon 
the  cross,  yet  He  is  exalted  above  all  that  is  called 
God.  It  will  always  be  pleasant  to  you  when  you 
see  or  hear  the  name  of  Sheridan  to  recognize  him  as 
an  acquaintance.  I  read  your  letter  to  Mrs.  War- 
burton  and  Mrs.  Curtis,  to  their  great  satisfaction. 
My  money  is  like  the  Widow  Cruise's  oil.  I  have 
very  little  and  have  had  very  little,  and  keep  spend 
ing,  but  somehow  there  seems  to  be  just  about  as 
much  now  as  there  was  before. 

I  went  to  a  party  last  evening.  By  the  way,  I  had 
five  invitations  for  last  evening,  one  from  Dr.  Hawes 
to  take  a  "  drive,"  one  from  Mr.  Owen  do.,  one  from 
Mrs.  Warburton  to  tea,  one  from  Judge  Perkins 
do.,  and  to  the  party.  I  accepted  the  latter,  as  it' 
came  first.  It  was  given  by  the  graduating  class  of 
'56.  Do  you  want  to  know  what  I  wore?  White 
muslin,  white  kids,  a  braid  of  hair  belonging  to  Mrs. 
Hall,  white  flowers  in  my  hair  arranged  by  Mrs.  Cur 
tis,  hair  necklace  with  a  heart  belonging  to  Mrs.  Hall, 


126     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

gold  necklace  wound  twice  around  my  left  arm  for  a 
bracelet,  belonging  to  Mrs.  Hall,  hair  bracelet,  corre 
sponding  to  the  necklace,  on  my  right  arm,  belonging 
to  Mrs.  Hall,  bouquet  in  front  arranged  by  Carrie 
Curtis,  white  satin  sash  tied  in  a  knot  with  long  ends, 
belonging  to  Mrs.  Curtis,  elegant  ivory  fan  belonging 
to  Mrs.  Hall,  bouquet  of  beautiful  flowers  plucked 
from  her  own  garden  and  arranged  by  Mrs.  Perkins. 
Did  we  apples  swim?  Didn't  we,  though?  Coach 
came  for  me  about  half-past  eight.  We  had  tableaux 
—  very  beautiful  ones,  refreshments,  plenty  of  talk, 
and  a  very  lively  and  pleasant  time,  much  more  so 
than  is  common  at  parties,  which  I  think  are  gener 
ally  very  stupid  things.  Mr.  Curtis  implored  me 
before  we  went  to  come  home  early.  I  said,  "  At 
what  time?"  He  replied,  "Nine."  I  said  well,  I 
would  start  about  ten,  but  we  did  not  leave  the  house 
till  after  twelve.  I  was  not  asleep  till  after  one,  and 
was  up  again  by  half-past  four,  and  over  to  Mrs. 
Hall's  soon  after  five.  Yesterday  was  the  anniver 
sary  of  her  wedding-day.  Her  husband  came  down 
Wednesday  evening  and  gave  her  the  gold  necklace  I 
spoke  of,  Friday  morning,  as  an  anniversary  present. 
She  desired  me  to  wear  it  to  consecrate  it.  Mrs.  Curtis 
was  not  well  and  did  not  go  to  the  party,  but  they  sent 
her  two  beautiful  bouquets.  Have  you  seen  Charles 
H.  Branscomb's  name  in  connection  with  Kansas  meet 
ings,  etc?  He  is  a  brother-in-law  of  Dr.  Curtis. 

There  is  to  be  an  indignation  meeting  to-night  on 
the  Sumner  affair.     Do  they  have  one  in  Hamilton  ? 

SEPTEMBER  22. 

The  sweet  fragrance  of  a  beautiful  bouquet  glad 
dens  my  sense  as  I  write  to  you.     It  was  left  me  by 


BEGINNINGS  OF  AUTHORSHIP  127 

Miss  Davis,  who  called  while  I  was  out.  I  wish  you 
could  know  how  happy  I  am  here  ;  not  but  that  there 
are  a  thousand  and  one  petty  vexations,  as  there 
always  must  be  in  this  world,  but  I  think  I  never  have 
enjoyed  myself  and  my  situation  more  since  I  began 
to  teach.  A  great  many  little  things  combine  to  make 
it  agreeable  which  cannot  be  mentioned  and  are  not 
worth  mentioning  if  they  could  be.  My  funds  are 
down  almost  to  zero.  My  personal  property  in  cur 
rent  coin  could  be  bought  for  considerably  less  than 
a  dollar. 

I  have  just  come  in  from  a  most  delightful  drive 
round  the  city.  It  is  so  warm  and  pleasant  and  gay ! 
One  of  my  pupils  called  for  me.  Lizzy  Hale  (daugh 
ter  of  John  P.  Hale,  of  whom  I  think  you  have  heard 
me  speak)  called  to-night  with  a  Miss  Low.  I  was 
very  glad  to  see  them,  and  they  appeared  glad  to  see 
me.  Lizzy  Hale  said  they  had  thought  of  coming 
down  to  the  High  School,  and  taking  me  away  by 
force.  In  my  grammar  class  to-day  I  had  given  for 
a  lesson,  sentences  to  be  written  and  handed  in  to 
me  containing  certain  kinds  of  words  as  adjectives, 
pronouns,  etc.  One  of  my  boys,  some  sixteen  or 
seventeen  years  old,  had  not  written  his,  so  I  told 
him  to  make  up  one.  He  said  he  should  think  the 
one  on  the  board  was  an  example.  I  turned  and 
looked  at  the  blackboard  and  saw  written  on  it  — 
"  Miss  Dodge  is  beloved  by  all  her  pupils,"  written, 
I  suppose,  by  some  foolish  school-girl  with  an  eye 
single  to  my  gratification.  I  felt  rather  silly  for  a 
minute  or  two.  One  of  the  boys  marched  into  the 
school-room  this  afternoon  with  his  arms  full  of  two 
great  bundles  of  grapes  done  up  just  alike  in  white 
paper.  One  he  presently  carried  to  Mr.  Curtis,  and 


128     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

the  other,  when  I  went  into  the  library  an  hour  or 
two  after,  he  brought  to  me.  Well,  these  things  are 
not  much  to  write  about,  are  they?  Nevertheless,  if 
I  were  to  see  you,  I  dare  say  I  should  tell  you  of 
them,  so  as  I  have  nothing  of  particular  importance 
to  communicate,  I  write  about  them.  Besides,  I  be 
lieve  you  do  not  scruple  to  tell  me  when  my  letters 
are  uninteresting,  so  I  suppose  you  will  not  fail  to 
inform  me  if  such  be  the  fact  in  the  present  case. 
Remember,  all  these  things  are  for  your  private  ears, 
but  are  not  to  be  mentioned. 


HARTFORD,  COXN.,  October  11,  1856. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  DODGE  :  As  your  devoted  daughter  is 
writing  you  upon  a  subject  of  deep  interest  to  me,  to  our 
High  School,  and  to  our  entire  community,  I  have  asked 
her  permission  to  add  a  few  words. 

I  learned  from  her  a  few  weeks  ago,  that  when  she  left 
home  there  was  a  general  understanding  among  her 
friends  that  she  would  close  her  engagement  with  us  at 
the  end  of  the  present  term.  It  was  certainly  a  painful 
surprise  to  me,  as  she  had  rendered  herself  so  necessary 
to  us  that  she  had  come  to  be  regarded  by  the  community 
and  myself  as  a  sort  of  permanent  fixture  of  the  school. 

She  tells  me  that  she  has  expressed  to  you  a  doubt 
whether  it  will  seem  best  for  her  to  adhere  to  her  former 
decision,  and  I  perceive  that  it  gives  her  some  concern  lest 
she  should  be  thought  unduly  variable,  not  to  say  fickle,  in 
her  purposes.  Let  me  assure  you  that  she  has  lost  nothing, 
by  leaving  home,  of  her  fervent  love  for  those  who  are 
there  and  especially  for  yourself,  whom  she  loves,  I 
believe,  with  a  fondness  and  an  affectionate  devotion  which 
few  daughters  bear  their  mothers.  It  is  these  considera 
tions  of  filial  and  affectionate  obligation  which  have  been 
almost  the  only  source  of  perplexity  and  hesitation  with  her 
in  seeking  a  right  decision.  She  feels  that  if  the  happiness 


BEGINNINGS   OF   AUTHORSHIP  129 

of  her  parents  would  be  materially  lessened  by  her  re 
maining  she  certainly  ought  not  to  do  so ;  and  so  I  think 
her  first  duties,  next  to  those  she  owes  to  God,  are  to  you. 
In  respect  to  all  other  considerations,  the  convictions  of 
her  judgment  and  conscience,  I  think,  incline  her  to 
remain.  She  cannot  be  ignorant  that  she  has  opportuni 
ties  of  usefulness  here  most  precious  and  inviting,  that 
even  the  present  results  of  her  labors  are  abundant,  and 
that  she  is  doing  much,  very  much,  for  the  permanent 
good  of  multitudes.  I  think  it  proper  that  you  should  be 
assured  that  she  is  filling  a  sphere  of  useful  labor  here 
which  no  one  before  her  has  yet  done,  and  which  I  sin 
cerely  believe  we  can  find  no  one  else  to  fill. 
With  great  respect, 

T.  W.  T.  CURTIS. 

NOVEMBER  12. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  Your  long  letter  came  to  hand 
last  Saturda}'.  I  was  glad  to  receive  it.  You  advise 
me  to  devote  myself  to  writing  more  entirely.  Well, 
1  should  like  to  do  it,  but  it  would  be  a  very  bad  time 
to  commence  now.  I  assure  you  in  hard  times  it  is 
a  mighty  fine  thing  to  have  six  hundred  dollars  a  year. 
No  newspaper  would  be  likely  to  pay  for  some  time 
to  come  any  more  than  it  could  possibly  help,  so  I 
think  I  shall  continue  to  teach  for  the  present,  but  I 
do  grudge  the  time.  A  year  of  leisure  would  be  the 
most  valuable  present  any  one  could  make  me  just 
now.  I  never  can  do  anything  in  the  way  of  writing 
so  long  as  I  have  to  teach.  That  is  a  settled  thing  in 
my  mind.  No  man  can  serve  two  masters. 

Saturday  Mrs.  Owen  called  in  her  carriage  to  say 
she  would  go  with  me  to  call  on  Mrs.  Sigourney  if  I 
would  like.  In  the  afternoon  I  went.  Mrs.  Sigourney 
is  a  very  affable,  sociable  lady,  with  old-school  man- 


130     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

ners,  courtesy  (curtsey?),  and  that  sort  of  thing. 
Kept  her  knitting  going  all  the  time  we  called  ;  has  a 
parlor  full  of  little  knick-knacks.  I  went  to  Dr. 
Bushnell's  church  Sunday  morning,  to  hear  Prof.  F. 
D.  Huntingdon  preach.  He  is  in  Cambridge,  used  to 
be  a  Unitarian,  —  some  think  he  is  now,  — but  he  is 
Orthodox  enough  for  me.  Mr.  Curtis  and  Mr.  AVilcox 
were  both  there.  We  all  liked  his  sermon  and  prayer 
very  much.  Mr.  Owen  was  quite  enraptured.  I 
went  there  to  dinner  and  to  Dr.  Hawes'  in  the  after 
noon. 

JANUARY  2,   1857. 

Mr.  Curtis  brought  to  school  a  letter  directed  to 
Mrs.  Gail  Hamilton,  Box  747,  Hartford,  Ct.  It 
proved  to  be  from  Mr.  Ladd,  proprietor  of  the  "In 
dependent."  Do  you  want  to  read  it  ? — 

MRS.  GAIL  HAMILTON,  "Box  747": 

MY  DEAR  MADAM  :  Your  favors  of  2d  hist,  to  Editor 
of  "Ind."  came  duly  to  hand.  Your  articles  were  very 
acceptable  and  shall  be  paid  for  at  the  rate  of  $3.00  a 
column  —  when  we  know  who  you  are,  for,  my  dear  Mrs. 
Gail,  or  Girl,  we  don't  pay  "  nobodies,"  we  don't —  If  you 
will  let  me  into  the  secret  of  your  name  I  will  be  very 
whist  about  it,  and  send  your  money  promptly.  Am  sorry 
you  have  got  fifteen  children  (is  that  all?)  to  support  at 
this  inclement  season  of  the  year,  and  wonder,  as  that  is 
the  case,  you  have  so  much  time  to  devote  to  literary 
pursuits. 

Hoping  you  will  no  longer  persevere  in  your  attempts 
to  preserve  an  incognito, 

I  am,  yours  truly, 

J.  II.  LADD. 

So  this  morning  I  have  written  him  a  letter.  Want 
to  hear  it  ?  — 


BEGINNINGS   OF   AUTHORSHIP  131 

MR.  LADD  : 

MY  DEAR  SIR  :  Awful !  awful !  awful !  To  go  and  put 
"  Mrs.  Gail  Hamilton  "  right  on  the  outside  of  my  letter, 
and  the  Post  Office  Clerks  know  my  box,  and  they  Avill  go 
and  tell  the  P.  M.  General,  and  he  will  go  and  tell  Mr. 
Buchanan,  and  Mr.  Buchanan  will  go  and  put  it  in  his 
inaugural  address,  and  so  you  have  released  grimalkin 
from  her  confinement.  And  then  again  the  Mrs.  AVhy  I 
am  not  married.  Well  —  really —  did  I  say  I  had  fifteen 
children  ?  It  was  a  wicked  story  gotten  up  for  effect  —  a 
poet's  license.  I  have  only  seven  —  no  three  —  well  there, 
I  may  as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  I  have  neither 
chick  nor  child  in  the  world.  Did  you  ever  here  of  the 
"  three  black  crows  "  ? 

I  have  not  the  slightest  objection  to  telling  my  name, 
only  it  is  such  a  shocking  one.  It  actually  hurts  my  mouth 
to  speak  it,  it  is  so  rough.  But,  as  there  is  no  prospect  of 
changing  it  I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once  it  is —  Oh,  I 
wanted  to  say  I  am  very  much  obliged  and  very  grateful. 
I  think  $3.00  a  column  is  quite  enough  for  such  quality  of 
writing.  I  expected  you  would  say  they  weren't  worth 
anything,  and  you  wouldn't  pay  at  all.  That  style  does 
not  require  thought  and  labor  like  some  others.  It  is  just 
like  telling  stories  to  little  children,  and  I  feel  absolutely 
mean  about  receiving  money  for  them,  but  then,  oh  dear, 
the  flesh  is  weak,  and  if  I  were  only  rich  I  would  be  aw 
fully  indifferent  and  noble  about  money  matters.  I  shall 
be  rich  one  day,  when  I  am  become  famous,  and  then  I  will 
always  write  for  nothing.  There  !  I  have  not  told  you 
my  name  yet,  but  I  am  just  on  the  brink  of  it.  Now  — 
don't  you  tell,  will  you  ?  Don't. 

Yours  very  truly, 

MARY  ABBY  DODGE. 
"  Phebus  —  what  a  name 
To  fill  the  speaking  trump  of  future  fame." 

Mrs.  Bird  said  my  name  was  very  familiar  to  her. 
She  had  heard  a  great  deal  about  the  Miss  Dodge  who 


132     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

taught  at  the  High  School,  but  had  always  supposed 
I  was  tall  and  very  dignified  and  between  thirty  and 
forty  —  so  you  see  I  must  have  a  very  dignified  repu 
tation,  notwithstanding  you  think  I  am  slightly  harum- 
scarum. 

JANUARY  15. 

Tuesday  evening  went  to  hear  Mr.  Capron  deliver 
a  lecture  on  Ancient  Architecture  at  the  school- 
house  to  the  Sigma  Phi  Society,  formed  of  some 
twenty-five  of  our  boys.  Received  another  letter 
from  Mr.  Ladd.  Want  to  hear  it  ?  — 

MY  DEAR  GAIL  :  For  I  do  not  believe  "  Mary  Abby 
Dodge"  is  your  true  name.  However,  it  matters  not.  I 
will  send  your  money,  as  you  insist  on  your  incog,  and 
aliases.  You  have  written  thirteen  and  a  half  columns, 
which  at  three  dollars  a  column,  amounts  to  $40,  for 
which  amount  I  enclose  my  draft  to  Mary  Abby's  order. 
You  need  not  expect  to  come  any  of  your  "Dodges" 
over  me.  Who  is  T.  W.  T.  C.  ?  1  believe  him  to  be  your 
paternal  parent.  [Mr.  C.  spoke  of  his  being  my  literary 
"  pa"  in  what  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Ladd.]  I  am  a  Yankee 
and  have  as  good  a  right  to  guess  as  you  wooden  nutmeg 
manufacturers.  1  would  like  to  see  you  when  you  come 
to  New  York.  I  have  had  the  honor  of  an  occasional  call 
from  some  of  our  lady  correspondents  —  on  business  of 
course.  Don't  fall,  at  all  events,  to  let  me  know  your 
address,  Mary  Abby,  when  you  are  in  town.  Excuse  the 
familiarity  of  my  style.  It  is  no  more  so  than  your  own. 
I  imagine  you  a  young  lady — I  won't  say  how  old.  1 
should  like  to  know,  as  bachelors  are,  you  are  aware, 
very  curious  about  such  matters. 

I  remain,  Mary  Abby, 

Yours  faithfully, 
J.  H.  LADD. 


BEGINNINGS  OF   AUTHORSHIP  133 

Wednesday  after  school  at  night  found  a  letter 
from  Dr.  Bailey,  of  Washington.  Want  to  hear  it?  — 

Will  Miss  Dodge  pardon  my  delay  in  remitting?  It 
will  be  a  particularly  gracious  act  on  her  part,  as  the  only 
excuse  I  can  plead  is  negligence.  I  enclose  a  draft  on 
New  York  for  fifty  dollars.  Need  I  say  that  I  like  your 
contributions  ?  The  promptness  with  Avhich  they  have 
appeared  is  enough.  Many  have  inquired,  Who  is  "  Gail 
Hamilton"  ? 

You  will  probably  continue  occasional  communications 
for  the  "  Era,''  but  I  cannot  offer  you  a  regular  engage 
ment.  This  is  my  misfortune,  not  my  fault  nor  yours. 
But  the  truth  is,  I  cannot  command  the  means,  just  now, 
to  commit  myself  to  any  stipulated  amount  for  contribu 
tions.  I  may  be  able  to  give  you  something  in  the  course 
of  the  year,  but  I  cannot  say  what,  or  when.  I  am  sorry, 
but  so  it  is ;  the  only  consolation  is,  so  will  it  not  be 
always. 

Truly  yours, 

G.  BAILEY. 

I  heard  the  other  day  that  "The  National  Era" 
had  "broke"  —and  I  know  they  are  very  poor.  It 
is  an  anti-slavery  paper  in  a  slave  State  and  slave 
city,  and  of  course  receives  no  local  support.  I  only 
wonder  how  it  has  been  able  to  keep  above  water  so 
long.  It  is  said  to  be  the  only  paper  published  in 
Washington  without  any  aid  from  the  government. 
Do  you  think  I  ought  to  send  back  the  fifty  dollars? 
It  is  too  late  though,  now.  It  is  gone,  all  gone. 
"  Dear  pa,"  he  took  it  and  gave  it  to  Mr.  Warburton, 
and  Mr.  Warburton  put  it  in  some  place  or  other,  I 
have  forgotten  where,  if  I  ever  knew,  all  but  eight 
dollars,  this  and  the  other  bringing  the  whole  up  to 
ihrce  hundred.  I  wish  to  make  this  statement  of 


134     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

affairs,  and  now  you  know  me  possessed  of  $300 
bank  stock.  Salary,  $600  per  year,  paying  $4.50  per 
week  for  board.  Please  after  this  not  try  to  take  my 
reckoning,  or  to  keep  the  run  of  my  money  matters, 
as  I  should  be  vastly  more  at  ease  and  more  inde 
pendent  if  you  would  exercise  your  practical  mathe 
matics  on  somebody  else's  purse  than  mine.  If  I 
don't  give  you  the  precise  data,  therefore,  to  reason 
from,  you  will  not  think  it  from  any  want  of  con 
fidence  in  yourselves  severally  and  collectively.  I 
intend  to  answer  Mr.  Ladd's  letter  to-night,  Mr. 
Bailey's  to-morrow.  Want  to  hear  them?  I  am 
afraid  the  former  will  be  too  long,  as  I  want  to  say 
"  a  thing  or  two." 

JANUARY  16,  1857. 
MR.  LADD: 

DEAR  SIR:  You  do  not  believe  my  name  is  "Mary 
Abby  Dodge,"  not  you  !  The  fleece  of  the  sheep  is  not  to 
be  extended  over  your  organ  of  vision.  Go  to  the 
little  village  of  Hamilton,  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts, 
ask  the  worthy  priest  Avho  presided  at  my  christening 
what  was  the  name  wherewith  my  parents  endowed  me 
at  the  baptismal  font  —  ask  the  sober  deacon,  who  holds  in 
his  hands  the  village  chronicles,  what  name  was  recorded 
on  those  Sibylline  leaves  when  my  father  announced 
to  him,  with  devout  thankfulness,  the  birth  of  a  seventh 
child,  "  Heaven's  last  best  gift,"  and  my  word  for  it  you 
will  return  six  inches  shorter,  on  a  moderate  calculation, 
than  you  Avere  when  you  left  the  metropolis  of  this  new 
world. 

Secondly,  you  believe  T.  W.T.C.  to  be  my  "  paternal 
parent."  My  dear  friend,  sit  down  to  a  cup  of  smoking 
Mocha  and  find  it  to  be  nothing  but  dishwater.  Pop  the 
question  to  Miss  Malinda  very  tenderly  in  the  twilight, 
and  find  when  the  gas  is  lighted  that  you  are  bound  for 
life  to  her  maiden  aunt,  "  fair,  fat,  and  forty."  Sit  three 


BEGINNINGS  OF   AUTHORSHIP  135 

hours  to  witness  the  unrolling  of  a  pickled  princess  and 
' '  fall  to  cxirsing  like  a  very  drab-a-sctillion  "  on  finding  that 
there  is  no  princess  after  all,  but  only  a  mummy  of  the 
baser  sort ;  and  in  all  these  you  will  not  be  any  more  out 
of  your  reckoning  than  you  were  when  you  drew  your 
bow  at  a  venture  and  appointed  T.  W.  T.  C.  my  father  in 
the  flesh.  T.  W.  T.  C.  is  not  my  father,  but  I  will  tell  you 
what  relation  he  does  bear  to  me.  His  wife's  father's 
father's  brother  married  my  minister's  sister.  Now  you 
know  who  he  is.  But  you  do  not  know  him  as  one  of  the 
best  friends  a  careless,  wilful,  headlong,  headstrong  girl 
was  ever  blessed  with.  I  sit  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  every 
day  because  I  make  him  so  much  trouble,  and  every  day 
I  think  I  will  reform  and  be  so  docile  and  calm,  and  self- 
possessed  ;  but  dear  me,  when  the  temptation  comes,  it 
seems  just  as  if  I  could  not  help  it,  and  generally  I  do 
not  think  how  undignified  I  am  until  it  is  all  over. 

You  judge  me  a  woe/  jn  nutmeg  manufacturer.  It  is  an 
unmitigated  falsehood.  Would  I  stoop  to  be  born  in  any 
other  State  than  the  one  that  came  out  to  meet  Fremont 
with  50,000  men. 

Fourthly,  you  want  to  see  me  when  I  come  to  New  York. 
I  am  not  going  to  New  York,  and  all  the  world  could  not 
induce  me  to  see  you  if  I  were.  The  very  thought  of 
meeting  a  live  publisher,  editor,  printer,  face  to  face, 
would  drive  me  "daft,  clean  daft."  I  was  brought  up 
in  the  depths  of  the  country,  and  never  saw  any  one  till  I 
was  fourteen,  and  then  I  was  sent  to  school  and  never 
saw  any  one  again  till  I  left  it,  and  I  am  terribly  afraid 
of  people  —  strangers  particularly.  You  imagine  me  a 
young  lady.  I  am  not  a  young  lady,  by  any  means. 
I  am  twenty-three  years  old,  sir —  I  almost  forgot 
the  very  thing  I  was  writing  for,  to  acknowledge  the 
receipt  of  a  piece  of  paper  which  you  said  was  $40,  but 
the  only  thing  I  saw  was  my  name,  and  the  "  Independ 
ent,"  in  great  flaring  letters,  so  that  all  the  bank  people 
will  know  that  "Mary  Abby  Dodge"  has  been  writing 
for  the  "Independent,"  and  that  is  the  wages  of  her 


136     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

iniquity.  What  shall  I  do  with  it?  I  am  just  as  badly 
off  now  as  I  was  before.  I  can't  really  think  I  am  writ 
ing  to  the  Joseph  II.  Ladd  whose  name  figures  so  formid 
ably  every  week  at  the  head  of  the  "Independent."  If 
you  are  the  staid  gentleman  in  unexceptionable  cravat 
and  gold  spectacles,  that  so  prominent  an  individual 
ought  to  be,  then  I  am  not  writing  to  you,  but  to  a  good- 
natured  man  who  wrote  me  an  off-hand  letter. 
Very  truly  yours, 

Well  —  GAIL  HAMILTON 

(I  think  I  like  that  best  on  the  inside  of  my  letters,  not 
on  the  outside  of  yours.) 

JANUARY  22. 

At  the  date  of  ray  last  letter  I  was  at  Mrs.  Owen's. 
By  the  way,  she  I  fiud  knows  about  my  writing.  She 
and  her  husband  were  at  Dr.  Bushnell's,  who  is  their 
pastor,  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  he  asked  them  if  they 
knew  who  Gail  Hamilton  was.  He  had  been  in  New 
York  and  seen  the  editors  of  the  "  Independent,"  and 
they  asked  him  if  he  knew  anything  about  me,  as  they 
wanted  very  much  to  find  out  who  I  was,  and  spoke 
very  highly  of  my  pieces,  etc. 

Saturday  I  read  and  wrote  as  usual,  walked  down 
town  in  the  afternoon.  Sunday  I  was  taken  sick,  and 
have  been  sick  ever  since,  so  you  see  I  cannot  have 
much  to  write  about.  I  suppose  I  took  a  sudden 
cold.  Several  causes,  no  one  of  which  was  sufficient, 
but  all  combined  were,  to  produce  the  effect.  I  did 
not  go  to  church  in  the  morning,  but  went  in  the 
afternoon;  was  quite  ill  there  with  headache.  Mr. 
Curtis  came  home  with  me,  Mrs.  Warburton  part  of 
the  way.  I  was  very  ill  that  night  with  fever,  had 
the  doctor  three  days,  and  am  now  decidedly  on  the 
mending  hand.  A  regular  allopathic  drug  doctor, 


BEGINNINGS  OF  AUTHORSHIP  137 

hurrah !      I'll   give    the    modus   operandi.     Dr.  

comes  in,  sits  down  by  the  bed,  and  takes  my  hand, 
pulse  110  or  12,  asks  a  few  questions  as  to  time  when, 
pain  where,  etc.,  says,  "  I  don't  think  it  is  anything 
but  a  cold,  if  it  is,  I  don't  know  what  it  is."  There's 
frankness  for  you.  That  suited  me  exactly,  and  I 
began  to  have  confidence  in  him.  "  But  I  can  tell 

O 

you  one  thing  you  are  not  going  to  have,  and  that  is 
smallpox."  I  was  glad  to  hear  this,  as  there  is  a 
good  deal  of  smallpox  in  town ;  in  fact,  I  suppose 
there  is  always  more  or  less,  but  I  happen  to  be  hear 
ing  of  it  now  more  than  usual.  "  What  I  shall  pre 
scribe  for  you  is  masterly  inactivity.  I  shall  not  give 
you  any  medicine  to-night,  as  I  think  Nature  will  do 
the  work  with  rest,  and  I  will  come  and  see  you  in 
the  morning."  Could  the  most  ultra  reformer  do 
more?  But  the  fact  is,  the  trouble  is  the  people. 
They  are  not  satisfied.  They  don't  feel  as  if  they 
are  going  on  right  unless  they  have  medicine.  Mrs. 
Huntington  now  said  "  she  should  have  been  much 
better  pleased  if  the  Dr.  had  left  me  some  medicine 
to  take."  /  was  much  better  pleased  as  it  was.  So, 
my  young  friends,  when  you  complain  as  you  may 
justly  do  that  doctors  are  often  humbugs,  you  must 
take  into  account  that  people  will  be  humbugged. 
The  scholars  and  other  friends  have  called  to  see  me 
during  my  illness,  and  I  have  been  supplied  with 
flowers  very  bountifully,  considering  it  is  winter.  One 
little  orange  flower  in  my  thimble  for  a  vase  diffuses 
a  very  tropical  fragrance  through  the  room. 

MAKCH  6. 

I  also  wrote  a  letter  to  Miss  Hunt.     Do  you  want 
me  to  transcribe  a  part  of  it  ?  — 


138     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

To  E.  A.  II.  IN  ALABAMA. 

The  balmy  airs  of  the  South-land 
Are  stirring  the  locks  on  thy  brow, 

The  perfumed  scent  of  her  orange  groves 
Meet  fragrance  for  such  as  thou. 

Hath  the  sunny  South-land  a  charm,  Nelly, 

To  lure  thy  longer  stay? 
From  her  velvet  turf  and  magnolia  breath 

Dost  thou  shrink  to  turn  away  ? 

Our  skies  are  leaden  and  gray,  Ellen, 

Our  winds  are  fierce  and  wild ; 
And  ghostly  and  cold  are  the  mountain  snows 

Which  they  in  their  fury  piled. 

But  the  hearts  are  warm  and  true,  Nelly, 
That  are  throbbing  with  love  for  thee  — 

That  are  keeping  time  to  thy  morning  song 
Wherever  its  warblings  be. 

And  the  void  which  thy  going  left,  Nelly, 

On  that  chill  November  morn, 
Is  a  void  to-day  —  and  to-night,  my  love, 

The  merry-voiced  spring  is  born. 

A  light  went  out  on  the  hearth-stone, 
A  tint  from  the  blue  of  the  sky ; 

A  tone  from  the  voice  of  singing  — 
Full  only  when  you  were  by. 

A  sense  of  what  might  be  and  is  not  — 

A  dreamy  and  vague  unrest, 
A  longing  and  waiting  and  watching  — 

These  were  thy  parting  behest. 

But  our  hills  shall  be  crowned  witli  greenness, 
Our  roses  shall  flush  in  the  sun  — 

Come  home,  come  home,  O  fairer  than  they  ! 
That  the  spring  be  indeed  begun. 


BEGINNINGS  OF  AUTHORSHIP  139 

HARTFORD,  CONN.,  April  15,  1857. 

You  DEAR  GRACE  GREENWOOD  :  I  think  you  arc 
just  as  splendid  and  kind  and  dear  and  delightful  as 
you  can  be.  I  have  just  received  your  letter.  If  you 
had  not  answered  mine  at  all  I  should  not  have 
blamed  you  in  the  least ;  I  know  your  time  must  be 
so  occupied,  and  I  have  no  claim  upon  you,  but  you 
have  written  me,  and  such  a  kind  letter.  I  under 
stand  what  nous  venous  means  on  a  mother's  lips. 
When  I  was  a  little  girl  and  used  to  ask  my  mother 
for  anything,  "  I  will  see  about  it,"  was  always  equiv 
alent  to  a  downright  affirmative. 

Suppose  you  were  a  little  bit  of  a  writer — a  very 
little  bit  of  one,  without  a  reputation,  without  much 
experience,  but  with  the  cacoetlt.es  scribendi  strong 
upon  you,  what  should  you  do?  That  is  the  ques 
tion. 

I  have  been  writing  a  little  for  about  a  year,  chiefly 
for  the  "  National  Era  "  and  "  Independent."  I  shall 
probably  continue  to  do  so  this  year,  but  that  does 
not  use  up  half  my  writing  material,  and  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  with  the  rest  of  it.  Is  there  any  good- 
sense,  respectable  newspaper  that  you  would  like  to 
write  for,  supposing  you  were  in  my  place.  Perhaps 
you  may  think  I  am  too  fastidious  for  a  tyro,  but  I 
think  it  is  better  to  have  your  standard  too  high  than 
too  low.  I  am  poor  enough,  to  be  sure,  and  generally 
in  debt,  and  would  be  glad  to  get  money  for  writing  ; 
but  I  would  rather  write  for  a  good  paper  without 
pay,  than  for  a  foolish  one  with.  If  I  become  a  good 
writer  I  shall  be  rich  enough  one  day.  Dr.  Bailey, 
of  the  "  Era,"  made  a  regular  bargain  with  me,  and 
he  expressed  himself  more  than  satisfied.  He  has 
treated  me  very  generously. 


140     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

I  will  send  you  the  only  article  of  mine  that  I  have 
on  hand  (out  of  my  scrap-book),  and  you  can  judge 
a  little  from  it.  I  will  follow  your  advice  in  anything 
unless  you  advise  me  not  to  write  at  all.  Write  I 
must.  It  is  absolutely  essential  to  my  happiness. 

My  dear  friend,  —  mine  though  I  never  saw  you, 
and  dear  whether  you  will  or  not,  —  don't  write  to  me 
again  till  you  can  almost  as  well  as  not.  If  you  do 
not  write  to  me  again,  I  shall  know  you  are  blessing 
some  one  else  ;  and  shall  not  bate  one  jot  or  tittle  of 
the  regard,  the  love,  I  now  bear  you. 

Very  truly  yours, 

GAIL  HAMILTON. 

On  looking,  I  find  two  pieces  and  send  them  both. 
You  will  see  that  the  rhymes  are  in  answer  to  one  of 
Jenny  Marsh's  poems. 

JUNE  9,   1857. 

Mr  DEAR  :  Your  letter  received  last  Saturday 
gave  me  great  pleasure.  I  was  in  an  exceedingly 
uncomfortable  state  of  mind.  Do  you  wish  to  know 
what  was  the  reason  ?  Well,  nothing  in  particular, 
only  I  was  so  tired,  tired  of  spending  my  life  in  school 
all  the  while  when  I  so  much  want  to  be  doing  some 
thing  else.  When  your  letter  came  I  determined  at 
once  to  act.  I  told  Mr.  Curtis  last  night  what  I 
wished  to  do.  He  does  not  blame  me  at  all.  My  plans 
at  present  are  to  remain  in  school  as  usual  this  term, 
next  term  to  teach  only  in  the  morning  if  it  is  possible 
to  do  so,  if  not,  to  remain  till  next  spring  as  I  am 
now,  because  I  should  be  unwilling  to  leave  till  my 
class  leave,  then  quit  entirely.  A  year  would  rest 
and  recruit  me.  At  the  expiration  of  that  time  I 


BEGINNINGS  OF  AUTHORSHIP  141 

shall  be  able  to  decide  whether  a  school  life  or  a  liter 
ary  life  suits  me  best.  If  I  prefer  the  former  I  can 
go  back  with  renewed  vigor  and  shall  not  by  any 
means  consider  the  year  lost.  If  the  latter,  I  shall 
have  made  a  start  and  be  prepared  to  go  on.  Last 
Thursday  the  State  Teachers'  Association  convened 
at  Meriden.  Mr.  Philbrick  was  President  of  the 
Association,  but  you  know  he  has  left  the  State,  is  in 
Boston,  and  Mr.  Curtis,  who  is  Vice-Pres.,  officiated. 
He  is  elected  Pres.  for  next  year.  Mr.  Curtis'  lecture 
came  first.  The  next  morning  I  did  not  attend  the 
lecture,  but  stayed  at  A's.  We  went  out  over  the 
farm.  They  have  a  beautiful  brook  winding  through 
it.  I  took  off  my  shoes  and  stockings  and  waded  in 
it.  When  I  grew  too  cold  I  would  run  out  on  the 
grass,  which  was  very  warm,  for  a  little  while.  I  was 
barefoot  nearly  an  hour,  I  should  think,  but  did  not 
take  the  slightest  cold.  In  the  afternoon  we  went 
down  in  season  to  hear  a  part  of  Mr.  Elbridge  Smith's 
lecture.  Sunday  Mr.  Beadle  baptized  seven  little 
babies.  Monday  morning  Rev.  Dr.  Hawes  came  into 
school,  stayed  through  devotional  exercises,  offered 
prayer  and  addressed  the  school,  so  we  may  be  sup 
posed  to  have  received  the  stamp  of  respectability. 
Miss  Tallant  is  going  to  leave  at  the  end  of  this  term. 
She  is  :i  superior  teacher.  Miss  Snow  may  do  so. 
Moved  with  pity  for  the  forlorn  situation  of  my 
principal,  also  with  a  reluctance  to  separate  from  my 
own  classes,  I  asked  him  if  it  would  be  any  relief  to 
him  to  have  me  stay  till  next  spring  just  as  I  am,  and 
I  rather  think,  unless  provision  can  easily  be  made,  I 
shall  do  so.  I  would  rather  do  it  than  leave  entirely 
before  my  pet  class  graduates.  I  have  sent  two  pieces 
to  the  "Little  Pilgrims,"  but  I  cannot  at  all  tell 


142     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

whether  they  will  be  printed,  as  I  have  not  read  that 
paper  enougli  to  know  what  kind  of  pieces  are  adapted 
to  its  pages.  The  signature,  however,  is  not  yet 
altered.  I  thought  of  taking  Erl  Stanwood,  but  shall 
not  take  the  last  name,  as  that  would  lay  me  open  to 
suspicion. 

JDLY  1,   1857 

Saturday  morning  I  went  to  ride.  I  did  not  enjoy 
it  so  much  as  before.  My  horse  was  not  in  so  good 
a  condition  and  did  not  go  so  well.  Monday  Mr. 
Beadle  came  into  school  a  little  while.  One  of  my 
boys  brought  me  a  little  bit  of  a  bouquet  of  which  a 
moss  rose-bud  was  the  prominent  flower,  and  asked 
me  if  I  would  wear  it  for  a  breast-pin,  and  also  if  I 
understood  the  language  of  flowers.  The  moss  rose 
bud  means,  "you  are  one  of  a  thousand."  The 
scholars  are  very  generous  in  the  matter  of  flowers 
and  bring  a  great  many.  One  in  particular,  one 
of  the  boys  brought  me,  consisted  entirely  of  rose 
buds  and  green.  It  was  "  beautiful  sunset."  I  had 
a  letter  from  Grace  Greenwood  yesterday  acknowl 
edging  the  receipt  of  the  sketch  I  sent  her.  She 
says  :  "  My  dear  good  friend,  I  thank  you  ver}"  much 
for  the  '  Little  Brother.'  It  is  a  charming  sketch, 
admirably  adapted  to  the  picture,  as  you  will  see.  I 
think  it  will  not  appear  till  September  or  October. 
We  wish  to  have  our  fall  numbers  particularly  good." 
She  also  says  she  expected  to  be  in  Hartford  this 
summer,  and  hopes  I  will  drop  my  veil  and  give  them 
a  sight  of  me.  I  should  be  very  glad  to  see  her,  but 
I  am  afraid  she  will  come  during  vacation  and  I  shall 
be  away.  I  shall  write  to  her.  I  have  about  twenty 
sheets  nearly  ready  to  send  to  Dr.  Bailey  of  the 
"  Era." 


BEGINNINGS   OF   AUTHORSHIP  143 

One  of  my  girls  came  to  me  the  other  day  saying : 
"  Oh,  Miss  Dodge,  are  you  Gail  Hamilton  ?  I  read  a 
piece  by  Gail  Hamilton  that  took  me  wonderfully, 
and  the  girls  say  it  is  you." 

HAMILTON,  MASS,  July  21,  1857. 
MY  DEAR  BROTHER  :  I  was  amused  at  your  asking 
me  if  I  had  not  a  word  of  advice  to  give  before 
you  took  the  last  fatal  step.  Now  that  is  precisely 
the  way  men  do.  Here  you  are  all  ready  to  be 
married,  the  year,  the  month,  the  day,  the  girl,  all 
chosen,  and  then  you  turn  round  and  ask  advice. 
What  good  will  it  do  now,  I  beg  to  know?  Suppose 
I  should  say  I  think  it  is  a  bad  plan  for  young  men 
to  marry,  or  that  I  think  Alice  is  not  the  right  kind  of 
woman  for  you,  do  you  think  it  would  make  a  hair's 
breadth  of  difference  in  your  plans  ?  Well,  I  shall 
not  try  the  experiment,  since  I  do  not  think  it  at  all 
necessary.  And  as  to  advice  I  have  little  to  give 
that  your  own  heart  has  not  already  prompted.  I 
should  wish  you  to  remember  that  the  little  acts  of 
courtesy  that  tend  to  foster  love  before  marriage, 
will  equally  tend  to  preserve  and  cherish  it  after,  that 
you  are  not  to  cease  to  be  a  lover  because  you  have 
become  a  husband,  and  that  you  will  both  have  some 
times  to  sacrifice  your  own  inclination  to  each  other's 
wishes,  or  your  happiness  will  be  shipwrecked  and 
your  lives  ruined.  One  thing  more,  let  me  advise  you 
always  to  be  polite  to  your  wife.  Show  her  especial 
respect,  and  never  allow  familiarity  to  degenerate  into 
rudeness.  I  returned  last  Saturday  evening.  I 
started  from  Hartford  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
I  met  Augusta  in  Boston.  You  may  be  interested  to 
know  that  we  went  shopping.  I  was  very  tired,  as 


144     GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

I  had  not  slept  much  for  several  nights  preceding, 
"but  whenever  I  lagged  in  talk,  Augusta  would  say: 
"  Come,  talk.  You  can,  I  know.  Rest  after  you 
get  home."  So  finally,  when  I  did  get  home,  I  was 
nearly  "  used  up."  A  night's  sleep,  however,  did 
wonders.  I  found  father  and  mother  in  good  health 
and  spirits.  1  don't  see  but  that  father  is  out  and  al 
work  as  much  as  he  was  when  he  had  the  farm  on  his 
hands.  He  points  with  great  pride  to  his  sixteen 
cocks  of  hay,  and  his  bit  of  garden  containing  corn, 
potatoes,  and  half  a  dozen  bean-poles.  Hires  Park- 
man's  horse  to  go  to  church,  and  altogether  lives  very 
comfortably  on  the  interest  of  his  money.  I  went  to 
a  party  the  night  but  one  before  I  came  away,  at 
President  Goodwin's,  of  Trinity  College.  It  was 
commencement  evening.  About  three  hundred  there. 
Went  at  nine,  came  away  before  eleven.  Was  out 
to  tea  the  same  afternoon  at  Hon.  Mr.  Gillette's,  with 
Miss  Catherine  Beecher  and  some  others.  Was  also 
out  the  evening  before  and  was  invited  to  Dr.  Hawes', 
but  did  not  go. 

AUGUST  20,  1857. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER  :  I  hope  that  by  this  time  you 
are  in  "  the  land  of  the  blest"  (?),  and  enjoying  the 
society  of  —  Alice  !  Enjoying  it  so  much  perhaps  that 
you  won't  care  to  be  wakened  from  your  dream  of 
felicity,  into  the  rough  and  tumble  of  Bay  State  life. 
Nevertheless,  I  shall  give  you  a  concise  account  of 
the  "  manners  and  customs  "  of  the  House  of  Dodge 
during  the  last  four  weeks,  and  you  can  read  it  or 
not,  at  your  pleasure. 

SEPTEMBER  12. 

I  also  had  that  day  a  letter  from  Grace  Greenwood, 
enclosing  the  picture  for  which  she  wished  me  to  write 


BEGINNINGS  OF   AUTHORSHIP  H5 

the  stor}'.  She  says  :  "  This  picture,  like  the  other 
we  sent  you,  is  from  an  English  book  where  it  illus 
trates  an  extract  from  Southey.  If  there  is  anything 
in  the  story  which  can  be  told  well  in  prose,  just  use 
it,  merely  simplifying  it.  But  it  seems  to  me  you  can 
bettor  trust  your  own  beautiful  and  ready  fancy. 
Send  it  to  me,  please,  as  soon  as  finished.  Do  excuse 
my  writing.  God  bless  you,  my  dear  unbeheld.  F^ver 
warmly  yours,  G."  I  sent  her  a  letter  the  next  day 
telling  her  that  I  would  do  it  in  three  or  four  days. 
I  have  been  greatly  bothered  in  writing  it,  first  by 
one  thing,  and  then  by  another.  Finally,  in  despair, 
I  took  it  down  to  school  with  me  yesterday  afternoon, 
determined  to  finish  it  after  school  before  I  went 
home.  Mr.  Curtis  said  he  would  go  home  with  me  if 
I  could  not  get  it  done  before  dark.  You  remember, 
perhaps,  yesterday  (Friday)  was  a  very  warm  day, 
so  after  the  scholars  were  all  gone,  I  took  my  writing 
materials  and  locked  the  door  and  went  out  into  the 
school-yard  and  sat  under  the  trees.  I  had  scarcely 
begun  when  lo  and  behold  !  in  walked  a  young  lady, 
not  one  of  the  scholars,  but  one  who  seems  to  have 
taken  a  great  fancy  to  me.  I  was  on  the  brink  of 
giving  up.  She  had  been  in  the  school  that  afternoon 
and  returned  to  see  if  she  had  dropped  her  veil.  I  gave 
her  the  key  and  she  went  in  and  found  her  veil  and 
came  out  again.  I  told  her  I  was  in  a  hurry  to  send 
out  in  the  next  mail,  and  she  had  the  sense  to  stay 
but  a  few  minutes.  I  wrote  till  it  was  dark  and  then 
went  over  to  Mrs.  Warburton's  and  finished  and  came 
home  about  nine. 

SEPTEMBER  16,   1857. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :   It  may  be  interesting  to  you  to 
know  in  what  manner  your  youngest  daughter  lately 


146     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

made  a  fool  of  herself.  Dr.  Bailey  and  his  family 
are  visiting  at  Mr.  Gillette's  for  a  few  days.  Lilly 
said  that  he  and  Mr.  Bailey  wanted  very  much  to  see 
me,  and  they  were  invited  to  Mrs.  Hooker's  that 
evening,  and  Mrs.  H.  sent  a  special  invitation  to  me. 
Mr.  Hooker  is  brother  to  Mrs.  Gillette,  and  Mrs. 
Hooker  is  a  Beecher.  The  Perkinses  and  the  Hookers 
and  the  Gillettes  all  live  out  there  together  on  a  place 
called  the  Nook  Farms.  I  told  Lilly  that  I  could  not 
go  —  would  not  go  for  anything  —  should  be  scared 
out  of  my  senses.  She  was  so  concerned  about  it  that 
she  went  home  at  noon  and  had  them  come  down  a 
few  minutes  in  the  afternoon.  He  stayed  in  the  entry 
downstairs.  I  stopped  on  the  stairs,  would  not  go 
down.  Mr.  Gillette  and  Lilly  both  came  for  me,  so 
I  dragged  myself  down,  could  not  speak  a  word, 
stammered,  blushed,  almost  cried,  and  acted  the  dunce 
generally.  I  told  them  I  should  not  go  over  in  the 
evening.  They  said  I  should.  Mr.  Gillette  said  if  I 
did  not,  he  should  take  me  by  force  of  arms.  Finally 
I  said  I  would  go  over  to  Mrs.  Gillette's  before  tea. 
I  did  so,  and  of  course  they  made  me  go  to  Mrs. 
Hooker's.  I  said  to  Mr.  Gillette  that  I  did  not  think 
in  the  afternoon  I  should  be  there,  and  I  meant  not 
to  come.  He  said,  well,  he  meant  to  have  me  there. 
There  were  only  their  own  friends  there  —  two  edi 
tors,  a  lawyer,  and  a  member  of  Congress  !  besides  a 
couple  of  authors  !  !  and  all  the  children.  Never, 
never,  never,  was  I  such  a  perfect  fool  as  I  was  all 
the  time.  I  lost  my  self-control  in  the  first  place 
and  did  not  recover  it  all  the  while.  It  is  well  that 
Dr.  B.  has  some  regard  for  my  writing,  for  he  cer 
tainly  can  have  none  for  me,  judging  from  my  exhi 
bition  of  myself  yesterday.  I  have  not  one  pleasant 


BEGINNINGS   OF  AUTHORSHIP  147 

feeling  or  recollection  connected  with  it,  only  that 
everybody  was  so  kind  to  me,  and  tried  to  make  me 
easy.  Of  course  I  don't  mean  that  I  was  in  an  equally 
flurried  state  all  the  time,  only  that  I  was  not  myself 
at  all.  Anyway,  Dr.  Bailey  said  he  considered  me 
one  of  the  most  valuable  contributors  to  his  paper, 
and  a  good  deal  of  that  sort.  Said  he  had  not  read 
the  last  piece,  —  "What  is  it,  Mr.  Gillette,  'Brown 
Bread'?"  and  Mr.  G.  said  it  was  "Brown  Bread 
Cakes,"  —  so  I  found  out  two  things  :  one  that  that 
piece  is  published,  which  I  did  not  know,  as  I  have 
not  received  the  last  two  "  Eras,"  and  another  that  1 
have  the  honor  of  having  Mr.  Gillette  for  a  reader. 
Ah  !  well,  it  is  all  over  now,  and  I  have  survived  it. 
I  drove  home  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hawley.  He  is 
editor  of  the  "  Press  "  in  this  city. 

Monday,  Dr.  Murdock  (D.D.)  was  in  my  Logic 
class,  and  stopped  talking  with  me  at  noon  till  nearly 
one.  Said  he  hoped  now  I  had  given  up  all  thoughts 
of  leaving,  and  considered  myself  settled  here  for  the 
present.  I  asked  him  what  made  him  think  about 
any  such  thing.  He  smiled,  and  said  he  had  heard 
of  my  leaving  on  account  of  the  inequality  of  salary ; 
said  he  thought  it  was  wrong,  and  should  not  respect 
a  woman  if  she  quietly  submitted  and  thought  it  right. 
Still  lie  thought  I  ought  to  stay  for  the  good  I  could 
do.  That  afternoon  about  four  o'clock  a  young  lady 
came  to  me  and  said  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Douglass,  of 
Mauch  Chunk,  were  at  the  door,  and  would  like  to  see 
me.  So  I  went  to  the  door,  and  afterwards  I  went  to 
the  station  with  them,  as  they  were  going  to  Windsor. 
They  renewed  their  proposition  very  urgently,  partic 
ularly  Mr.  Douglass.  Asked  me  to  set  my  own  price, 
etc.  I  went  back,  told  Mr.  Curtis.  He  wanted  me 


148     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IX   LETTERS 

to  go  over  to  Dr.  Murdock's,  so  wo  went ;  had  a  long 
talk.  Dr.  M.  thought  I  ought  to  stay  —  miserable 
little  coal- hole  was  Mauch  Chunk.  Great  city  was 
Hartford,  better  for  me,  for  the  school,  etc.  The 
next  day  he  wrote  a  little  sermon  and  sent  me.  It 
was  capital !  Text,  "  Stay  where  you  be."  Regu 
larly  divided  and  all.  I  should  like  to  have  you  see 
it.  Finally  I  concluded  yesterday  that  if  they  would 
give  me  three  additional  weeks  of  vacation,  I  would 
stay.  So  it  is  settled.  I  wonder  what  the  next  flare- 
up  will  be.  I  have  been  in  a  fever  the  last  two  days. 
It  is  very  pleasant  once  in  a  while  to  find  out  how 
much  people  think  of  you. 

OCTOBER  1C. 

All  the  banks  in  Hartford  but  one  have  suspended, 
—  in  fact,  all  over  the  country  it  is  the  same,  couse- 
quentby  merchants  look  brighter.  The  bills  of  the 
suspended  banks  pass  perfectly  well.  The  chief  diffi 
culty  is  scarcity  of  change,  specie  being  locked  up. 
I  consider  you  rather  a  fastidious  correspondent.  You 
don't  care  to  have  me  write  the  events  of  every  day, 
but  what,  I  beg  to  know,  do  you  expect  me  to  write  ? 
I  have  very  few  stirring  adventures,  or  hair-breadth 
escapes.  There  is  no  civil  war  or  revolution.  I 
could  write  you  an  essay  on  Logic  if  you  wished  it, 
or  a  Treatise  on  Educational  Institutions,  but  I  think 
that  would  not  be  very  interesting.  I  am  sorry  you 
are  grown  so  ambitious  as  not  to  be  satisfied  with  com 
mon  things.  As  for  me,  I  am  content  to  walk  in  the 
path  of  duty,  be  it  ever  so  humble. 

OCTOBER  17. 

I  want  you  to  send  that  ten-dollar  bill  back  to  me. 
I  have  had  the  credit  of  my  generosity  and  now  I 


BEGINNINGS  OF  AUTHORSHIP  149 

want  my  bill.  Seriously,  I  wish  you  would  send  it  to 
me  in  the  course  of  a  week,  as  I  can  use  it  advantage 
ously  at  its  par  value,  and  when  money  gets  agoing 
again,  I  will  send  you  a  bill  in  exchange.  AU  the 
banks  but  one  in  H.  having  suspended,  one  is  just  as 
good  as  another.  I  have  about  five  dollars  in  silver 
which  I  have  to  use  in  an  emergency.  If  I  lose,  and 
if  you  lose,  our  property  —  we  will  "  travel  on  the  con 
tinent"  sure  enough.  I  am  not  afraid,  however.  Now 
that  the  banks  have  suspended,  business  men  seem 
to  look  brighter. 

Sunday,  Dr.  Hawes  preached  a  sermon  on  "  the 
times."  As  it  had  been  announced  in  the  papers,  a 
good  many  from  other  churches  were  present.  Mr. 
Warburton  did  not  like  it.  "  How  hardly  shall  they 
that  have  riches,  etc."  Mr.  W.,  however,  does  not 
like  Dr.  Hawes  over-much  at  any  time.  In  the  after 
noon  there  were  two  strangers,  ladies,  in  the  pew.  I 
was  there  first.  I  stood  to  let  them  go  by  me.  Only 
one  attempted  it.  I  had  on  hoops.  She  had  on 
hoops.  I  compressed.  She  compressed.  Tug  — 
squeeze  —  push  —  there  we  go.  No,  her  shawl  has 
caught  in  my  palm-leaf  fan.  Can't  move  — won't  come 
off.  Oh,  dear !  what  a  time.  The  next  time  I  shall 
not  try  to  let  a  lady  go  by. 

OCTOBER  19. 

Thursday  I  received  a  letter  from  Dr.  Bailey,  in 
which  he  says  :  "  Dear  Gail :  The  author,  a  Virginia 
woman  whom  I  know  not,  wishes  me  to  send  this  to 
you.  After  reading  it  you  may  blow  a  hurricane 
rather  than  a  Gale.  Abominably  yours,  G.  Bailey." 
The  woman  goes  on  to  say  :  "  Dear  Gail  Hamilton  : 
Pardon  the  familarity  of  my  address,  but  I  have  read 
you  smilingly  (you  gay,  merry  sprite)  for  so  many 


150     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

pleasant  autumn  evenings,  that  to  address  yon  as  a 
stranger  just  now  seems  to  be  a  moral  impossibility." 
After  going  on  a  page  or  two  in  this  way,  she  says  : 
"I  want  to  tell  you  some  of  my  impressions  about 
you.  In  the  first  place,  I  was  '  impressed'  with  the 
idea  that  you  were  a  spritely  '  bachelor'  incog.,  dash 
ing  off  witty  speeches  in  irresistible  style,  with  no 
better  end  in  view  than  to  '  turn  young  damsels' 
heads.'  "  A  very  non-complimentary  idea,  was  it  not  ? 
"  Well,  don't  be  offended.  You'll  allow,  dear  Gail, 
that  you  do  write  a  little  masculinely,  and  make  an 
occasional  '  speech  '  which  might  sound  in  better  taste 
coming  from  a  bearded  lip  than  from  gentle  rose-bud 
lips  like  yours.  Now  let  me  admonish  you,  dear  Gail 
(I've  no  desire  to  raise  a  '</«?e'),  that  although  I  love 
you  dearly  as  a  child  of  genius,  I  must  tell  you  plainly 
that  it  pains  me  to  have  you  veil  your  better  nature 
thus.  You  were  never  made  to  trifle  and  dally  thus, 
be  assured.  Why  not  rouse  those  dormant  powers 
and  wield  your  pen  as  I  am  sure  you  can,  so  as  to 
make  yourself  both  useful  and  distinguished."  —  and 
so  on.  What  do  you  think  is  best  to  do  about  it  ? 
"Dormant  powers,"  indeed.  She  evidently  thinks  I 
have  nothing  to  do  but  write  and  does  not  know  that 
my  writing  is  but  a  recreation  after  a  hard  day's  work. 
In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Smith  was  in  school.  I  had 
on  my  new  blue  silk.  He  said  :  "Do  you  want  to 
know  what  I  thought  when  I  saw  you  standing  on  the 
platform?"  Of  course  I  did.  "  Well,  of  that  verse, 
'  and  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky ' '  —  which  I  consider  a 
very  remarkable  example  of  poetical  enthusiasm  in 
Thomas  Smith,  Esq.,  saddle-maker.  Had  a  letter 
from  Augusta  containing  the  unfortunate  ten-dollar 
bill  which  has  caused  so  much  trouble.  I  knew  I 


BEGINNINGS   OF   AUTHORSHIP  151 

could  use  it  here,  and  I  thought  she  could  not  there. 
Sunday  Mr.  Eustis,  of  New  Haven,  preached.  I 
liked  him  very  much,  and  I  believe  people  gener 
ally  did.  In  the  evening  I  read  Miss  Beecher's  new 
work,  which  I  considered  so  heterodox.  I  was  not 
particularly  impressed. 

JANUARY  4,   1858. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  wished  very  much  last  Satur 
day  night  that  I  could  send  you  word  of  my  safe 
arrival,  but  I  suppose  you  have  before  this  concluded 
that  no  news  is  good  news.  Sunday  I  went  to  church. 
Coming  home,  Mr.  C.  gave  me  a  letter  which  he  had 
sent  me  last  Monday.  It  had  been  sent  from  Hamil 
ton  to  Hartford.  In  it  he  had  directed  me  to  see 
certain  teachers  in  Lawrence,  Danvers,  Salem,  Fall 
River,  Framingham,  etc.  My  expenses  were  to  be 
paid.  I  should  have  spent  the  Sabbath  with  you  in 
Cambridge,  and  had  a  grand  time  riding  round.  He 
was  very  much  disappointed  that  I  did  not  receive 
the  letter.  Found  also  a  letter  from  Grace  Greenwood 
and  her  husband.  She  says  :  "My  dear  Mad-cap: 
Your  cool  refreshing  letter  of  the  9th  came  in  due 
time.  Did  you  rightly  know,  when  penning  it,  whether 
you  stood  on  your  topsy  or  your  turvy  ?  1  owe  you 
for  another  long  hearty  laugh,  but  to  pay  you  now  is 
1  past  my  power.'  "  The  letter  from  her  husband  is 
as  much  of  a  '•  wild-cat"  as  was  mine.  Among  other 
things,  he  says :  "  Tell  her  if  she  does  not  treat  me 
better  I  won't  let  you  run  over  to  Hartford  when  yxm 
make  your  visit  to  New  York  in  February."  So  I 
suppose  she  has  such  a  thing  in  mind. 

I  understand  Dr.  Murdock  has  decided  to  accept 
his  Boston  call.  I  think  I  shall  read  a  part  of  his  ser 
mon  to  him  the  next  time  I  see  him.  I  have  copied  it 


152     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

on  another  sheet  and  send  it  to  you.  I  went  last 
night  with  Mrs.  Owen  and  Miss  Tallunt  to  a  lecture 
by  Dr.  I.  Hayes,  a  gentleman  who  accompanied  Dr. 
Kane  in  his  Arctic  expedition  in  search  of  Sir  John 
Franklin.  I  was  very  much  interested,  and  should 
have  been  if  Dr.  Kane's  dog  had  lectured.  He  was  a 
rather  small,  slight  man,  who  did  not  look  as  if  he 
could  ever  have  craved  tallow  candles,  or  eaten  raw 
rats.  What  would  Alvin  say  to  see  an  Esquimaux 
eating  ten  or  twelve  pounds  of  walrus  beef  at  a  meal? 
His  lecture  was  very  simple  and  conversational  in 
style. 

FEBRUARY  11. 

I  went  out  skating  for  the  first  time  last  Monday 
evening — Sam,  Henry,  Bessie,  Sarah,  Maria,  a  Miss 
Taiutor,  who  is  visiting  here,  and  myself.  We  took 
a  lantern.  They  fastened  my  skates  on  and  I  man 
aged  to  stand,  and  finally  went  round  the  pond  twice 
alone,  fell  down  twice,  and  was  considered  quite  an 
expert  scholar. 

James  Russell  Lowell,  the  Poet,  of  Cambridge  or 
Boston,  delivered  a  poem  on  music  before  the  Institute 
last  Tuesday.  I  liked  it  very  well  —  some  parts  very 
well.  Yesterday  forenoon  I  went  over  to  the  Semi 
nary  to  hear  a  class  in  Logic,  the  first  time  I  have  been 
to  the  Seminary  since  I  taught  there.  The  building 
has  been  greatly  improved.  I  waited  and  waited  with 
Miss  Parker,  but  the  class  did  not  come  down,  and 
finally  Miss  Ramsay  sent  down  word  that  it  would 
not  recite  that  day,  so  I  returned  as  I  went.  I  have 
an  invitation  to  tea  to-morrow  evening  at  Mr.  Watkin- 
son's,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pres.  Goodwin,  and  rather 
think  I  shall  go. 


BEGINNINGS  OF   AUTHORSHIP  153 

FEBRUARY  15. 

An  eye  is  not  to  be  trifled  with.  It  is  a  consolation 
to  reflect  that  if  I  ever  do  become  blind  I  shall  not  be 
wholly  compauionless,  isolated,  and  desolate.  Still,  I 
would  rather  have  my  one  eye  than  the  best  reader  in 
the  world.  "  What  about  writing  for  the  'Congrega- 
tionalist'?  "  Why,  nothing  in  particular,  only  I  took 
it  into  my  head  to  write  a  little  story  for  them  and  did 
so,  and  sent  it,  and  they,  you  see,  thought  it  was 
mighty  good  and  wanted  to  make  an  engagement  with 
me,  /"spose,"  but  had  their  hands  full  already,  and  so, 
to  keep  me  along,  sent  me  a  couple  of  dollars.  Little 
enough  to  be  sure,  but  it  didn't  take  long  to  write  it 
and  seventy-five  cents  an  hour  is  not  bad,  particularly 
when  you  would  not  be  doing  anything  else.  Well,  that 
two  dollars  is  gone  except  forty-nine  cents,  and  for 
mercy's  sake  if  you  have  any  money  belonging  to  me 
send  it  on,  and  do  it  quick  if  you  don't  want  me  to  go 
distracted.  I  learn  in  various  ways  the  authors  in 
the  "Atlantic  Monthly  "•—  sometimes  by  the  news 
papers,  sometimes  by  the  style,  and  sometimes  by 
private  information.  Fred  Perkins,  son  of  Mrs. 
Stowe's  sister,  wrote  "The  Librarian's  Slory  "  in  the 
last  one.  Please  put  it  down  in  the  magazine. 

The  "  Home  Journal"  I  send  with  this  has  in  it  a 
marked  paragraph  about  Wright,  the  Artist.  The 
lady  referred  to  is  Mary  Peck.  She  is  rich,  beautiful, 
intelligent,  enthusiastic,  sensible,  graceful,  charming. 
At  least,  so  I  gather  from  some  of  her  friends.  She 
comes  to  our  school  once  a  week  to  take  lessons  in 
French  of  Miss  Tallant,  who  likes  her.  Miss  T. 
spent  an  evening  with  her  a  few  days  ago,  and  this 
Mr.  Wright  was  there.  She  did  not  know  at  the  time 
that  they  were  engaged.  I  went  to  Mrs.  Watkinson's 


154     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN    LETTERS 

to  tea  Friday.  Mrs.  Watkinson  is  mother  of  Mrs. 
Iluntington.  They  are  English,  at  least  he  is  — -  house 
full  of  pictures,  engravings,  etc.,  and  oh,  my  !  father, 
they  had  a  smashing  fire  in  the  parlor  and  another  in 
the  dining-room,  I  believe,  and  more  than  all,  a 
smashing  fire  in  the  entry  and  nobody  anywhere  near 
it.  I  suppose  they  had  a  fire  in  the  kitchen,  as  we 
hud  tea  and  oysters,  but  I  don't  know.  Saturday 
morning,  about  eleven  o'clock,  I  took  my  skates  and 
marched  over  to  Mr.  Gillette's  and  several  of  us  went 
down  to  the  river  and  skated  till  dinner  time.  The 
river  flows  by  their  house.  I  made  out  a  little. 
When  I  was  tired  I  seated  myself  ou  a  sled  and 
Edward  Gillette  skated  me  away  down,  down  river 
ever  so  far.  It  was  splendid.  After  dinner  I  in 
tended  to  go  home,  but  a  gentleman  came  from 
Farmington  with  his  skates  and  they  all  wanted  me  to 
stay  so  much  that  I  did  and  we  went  to  the  river 
again.  This  time  I  improved  considerably.  The 
gentleman  was  a  very  fine  skater  and  cut  all  sorts  of 
antics  on  the  ice,  said  that  he  thought  in  two  or  three 
days  more  I  should  skate  quite  easily.  Alas  !  the 
snow  has  come  and  spoiled  the  skating  and  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  lose  what  I  have  gained.  Your  caution 
is  very  good  but  needless,  as  I  do  not  go  on  the  ice 
alone  but  only  where  several  have  preceded  me. 
Consequently  they  would  probably  break  in  first. 
They  jump  and  stamp  about  in  all  directions,  and  / 
could  not  break  the  ice  if  I  wished.  Augusta,  can't 
you  imagine  the  "  halliballoo"  of  getting  mother  away 
to  Beverly  ?  Don't  you  wish  you  had  been  there  ?  Did 
father  offer  any  opinion  as  to  the  flight  of  time,  the 
necessity  of  facilitating  matters  as  much  as  possible, 
or  a  suggestion  touching  the  inexorable  punctuality  of 


BEGINNINGS   OF   AUTHORS  HIP  155 

cars?  Secondly,  father's  kind  supervision  of  the 
dinner  in  mother's  absence,  and  your  quiet  internal 
chuckle  thereat. 

Mother,  you  seem  to  lie  under  a  mistake  in  wishing 
me  not  to  skate  on  deep  ponds.  The  ice  always 
comes  to  the  top  of  the  water.  Consequently,  whether 
the  pond  be  deep  or  shallow,  we  don't  skate  in  the 
water  at  all,  which  besides  being  inconvenient,  would 
be  very  uncomfortable  in  cold  weather. 

FEBRUARY  23. 

I  am  very  busy  now  in  school  —  very  busy  —  ordi 
nary  and  extraordinary  things  about  fill  up  my  time. 
One  of  the  extraordinaries  was  that  I  yesterday 
learned  that  two  of  our  girls  had  not  spoken  to  each 
other  since  last  May.  Miss  Hunt  had  talked  to  each 
of  them  and  tried  to  have  them  make  up,  in  vain. 
She  wanted  me  to  take  them  in  hand  and  see  what  I 
could  effect.  I  was  determined  to  have  no  such  folly 
in  school.  I  took  them  both  together  into  my  recita 
tion  room  this  noon  and  "  pitched  into  them"  pell 
mell,  made  them  shake  hands  and  say  good  morning, 
and  promise  to  say  good  morning  and  good  night  every 
day  for  a  week,  and  never  to  hear  any  one  else  say 
anything  against  either  of  the  others  without  telling 
that  person  it  should  be  investigated,  so  that  was 
settled.  Then  the  boys  want  to  get  up  a  kind  of  ex 
hibition,  speaking  pieces,  etc.  Mr.  Curtis  and  myself 
both  felt  sorry.  They  wanted  me  to  go  and  hear 
them  rehearse  last  night,  so  I  did  and  found  they  had 
selected  a  regular  "  blood  and  thunder"  piece,  have 
nine  pistols  discharged,  and  two  or  three  people  shot 
dead.  Question  is  to  get  them  to  give  up  the  piece 
and  the  whole  Ihiug.  I  took  one  of  the  prominent 


156     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

boys  upstairs  to-night  and  talked  with  him.  Ho 
acquiesced  and  promised  to  speak  with  some  of  the 
other  boys,  but  how  it  will  turn  out,  I  don't  know. 
So  the  time  passes  and  examinations  commence  in  a 
month  and  then  ! 

MARCH  2. 

MY  DEAU  MOTHKK  :  The  spiing  is  come,  but  we  are 
having  a  most  wintry,  if  not  the  most  wintry  day  of 
the  season.  I  am  up,  however,  and  writing  to  you 
before  breakfast.  I  have  also  this  morning  finished 
a  letter  to  Ellen  Hobbs.  I  wrote  to  her  New  Year's 
time  and  did  not  receive  her  answer  till  yesterday. 
You  know  when  she  wrote  to  me  a  year  ago,  she  had 
a  little  boy  ten  weeks  old.  He  died  last  September. 
He  was  very  sensitive,  intellectual,  and  precocious. 
Though  only  ten  months  old  at  the  time  of  his  death, 
he  talked  considerably  —  of  course  he  died.  She  has 
now  a  little  girl  three  months  old,  commonplace  and 
pretty  and  will  very  likely  live.  Two  of  her  brothers 
are  in  college  and  one  at  Exeter.  I  don't  often  write 
a  second  New  Year's  letter,  but  I  thought  I  would 
answer  hers.  Her  husband  has  built  a  house  out  of 
town,  where  they  are  now  living.  Her  sister,  who  was 
married  shortly  before  I  visited  Wakefield,  lias  three 
children.  So  goes  the  world  —  marriages,  births, 
deaths,  and  moral  reflections. 

What  was  the  matter  with  Abigail  Annable  ?  Death 
would  be  to  her  nothing  but  great  gain,  but  I  think 
Mrs.  —  —must  be  a  good  deal  surprised  during  her 
first  few  days  in  heaven.  She  has  probably  had  her 
opinions  a  good  deal  modified  on  some  points  by  this 
time.  It  seems  to  me  there  has  been  an  unusual 
amount  of  illness  and  death  lately  in  your  vicinity. 
Thanks  to  God  that  death  may  be  only  a  transfer  to  a 


BEGINNINGS   OF   AUTHORSHIP  157 

higher  and  holier  life !  It  often  seems  strange  to  me 
that  we,  who  believe  in  a  happy  immortality,  should 
so  fear  to  die.  I  suppose  there  will  always  be  a 
natural  shrinking  from  it,  yet  we  can  trust  God  so 
much  as  to  trust  Him  even  in  the  dark  valley,  and 
especially  when  we  think  of  the  joy  that  waits  for  us 
beyond.  I  have  thought  about  this  lately  more  than 
usual,  and  the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  less  fearful  it 
seems  to  me. 

How  long  has  S's  baby  been  sick?  I  hope  it  will 
not  live  to  be  deficient  in  intellectual  power.  In  fact, 
I  don't  think  there  is  much  objection  to  babies  dying 
anyway.  They  miss  a  great  deal  of  pain  and  sorrow. 

I  don't  suppose  C would  thank  me  for  saying  it. 

Your  children,  mother,  had  first,  strong  constitutions  ; 
secondly,  plenty  of  fresh  air;  thirdly,  coarse  food; 
and  fourthly,  were  not  nursed  and  petted  to  death  — 
therefore  they  did  not  have  fits. 

I  bought  to-day  a  cunning  pair  of  little  white  thibet 
shoes  embroidered  with  brown  silk,  to  send  to  Mr. 
Capron's  baby,  who  is  on  the  way  to  this  vale  of  tears, 
and  have  done  them  up  with  the  following  note,  which 
you  may  read,  if  you  wish,  and  if  you  don't,  you 
need  not : 

Little  Baby  feet,  patter,  patter, 

Coming  hither  down  the  road  from  Heaven  — 
Little  Baby  cheek,  rest  softly 

On  the  Mother's  breast  God  hath  given  — 
Little  Baby  life,  float  lightly 

In  the  sea  of  love  round  thee  flowing 
Little  Baby  sun,  rise  brightly, 

Far  be  the  night  of  thy  going  — 
Little  Baby  soul,  love  wisdom 

Borne  to  thee  in  fatherly  caresses  — 


158     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Little  Baby  heart,  learn  goodness 

Dropt  to  thee  in  motherly  kisses  — 
Love-guided  wisdom  be  thy  pole-star, 

So  shall  the  Earth-life  given, 
Be  but  a  firm  and  gentle  treading 

Back  again  along  the  road  to  Heaven. 

MAY  24. 

I  have  a  class  in  Literature  in  the  morning  and  one 
in  the  afternoon,  that  is  all  the  regular  classes.  I 
have  besides  the  care  of  all  the  compositions.  Bertha 
Olmsted  teaches  in  the  morning  only.  Miss  Hunt, 
Tallant,  and  I  are  going  to  read  Virgil  together  at 
noon  by  way  of  brushing  up  our  Latinity.  Mr. 
Washburn,  the  Rector  of  St.  John's  Church  (Episco 
pal),  is  delivering  a  course  of  lectures  on  English 
Literature  before  the  Senior  Class  of  Triuity  College, 
and  the  public  are  invited  to  attend,  so  I  take  my 
class,  which  has  been  studying  it  a  year,  and  go. 
They  are  twice  a  week,  generally  Wednesday  and 
Friday  at  half-past  two,  and  last  perhaps  an  hour 
and  a  half.  The  public  don't  respond  to  the  invita 
tion  so  readily  as  they  might.  I  find  he  goes  over 
nearly  the  same  ground  that  I  have  in  my  classes,  but 
it  is  very  good  for  them  as  a  review. 

I  bought  some  erasive  soap  that  professes  to  take 
out  spots  without  taking  out  color  and  applied  it  to 
that  huge  spot  on  my  blue  dress.  It  has  done  all  it 
professed  to  do  as  regards  taking  out  the  spot,  and 
what  it  professed  not  to  do  in  taking  out  the  color. 
Still,  it  is  an  improvement  on  the  dark  spot,  as  it  only 
looks  a  little  lighter  than  the  rest,  and  may  be  attrib 
uted  to  light  and  shade,  but  the  best  receipt  after  all 
for  taking  spots  of  any  kind  out  of  silk  dresses,  is  not 
to  get  them  on. 


BEGINNINGS   OF  AUTHORSHIP  159 

I  went  into  a  picture  shop  with  Miss  Tallant  the 
other  day  to  see  an  aquarium,  and  it  was  really  worth 
seeing.  It  is  a  glass  box  with  pebbles  and  sand  in 
the  bottom  and  plants  growing  up  among  them  and 
fishes,  lizards,  etc.,  darting  about.  It  is  in  fact  a 
miniature  ocean.  I  wish  you  could  see  one.  By  the 
way,  your  collar  is  universally  admired.  Mrs.  Owen 
noticed  it  of  herself.  I  told  her  you  worked  it. 
"  What !  "  she  said  in  astonishment,  "  your  mother  !  " 
It  was  the  close  worked  one.  I  have  not  worn  the 
other  yet.  The  people  here  have  a  way  of  calling  me 
"  John,"  in  allusion  to  my  shorn  locks,  I  suppose. 

MAY  31. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Grace  Friday.  Her  husband 
sent  "  tell  G.  H.  my  soul  yet  lies  at  her  feet  waiting 
to  be  picked  up  by  her  gracious  hands,"  whereat 
Grace  asks  "are  you  good  at  finding  small  valuables?  " 
whereat  I  replied  "  Leander  lies  at  my  feet,  does,  he? 
I  dare  say  he  lied  at  yours  once,  didn't  he?  It's  rny 
opinion  he  would  lie  anywhere."  He  looked  over  her 
letter  afterwards  and  professed  himself  indignant  at 
the  way  in  which  she  had  desecrated  and  ridiculed  his 
most  loving  and  eloquent  message,  and  said  that  if 
his  soul  chanced  to  flutter  down  to  the  delicate  Chinese 
terminations  of  any  other  woman,  why,  perspective 
has  a  most  annihilating  effect  upon  it  —  and  I  said  to 
Grace  I  would  not  be  content  with  letting  perspective 
have  an  annihilating  effect  on  his  soul  as  he  probably 
would  not  mind  that  in  the  least,  but  I  would  let  a 
broomstick  do  the  same  good  office  to  his  body,  where 
he  would,  doubtless  be  more  vulnerable.  Ain't  I 
"cunning,  and  couldn't  I  throw  this  pumpkin  right 
over  the  meeting-house  with  my  little  finger?" 


160     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Mr.  Thomas  K.  Beecher,  who  used  to  be  the  Princi 
pal  of  the  High  School,  preached  for  Dr.  Buslmell  in 
the  forenoon,  and  I  went  to  hear  him.  It  was  a  pre 
liminary  discourse  to  one  he  was  to  preach  in  the 
evening.  Heard  Dr.  Hawes  in  the  afternoon,  in  the 
evening  Mr.  Beecher.  I  liked  him  much  better  than 
in  the  morning.  The  disagreeablenesses  were  not  so 
prominent  and  there  was  more  substance.  Ho  reminds 
you  occasionally  of  his  brother,  Henry  Ward.  I  be 
lieve  he  is  about  thirty  }-ears  old.  Very  slight,  thin, 
and  fair,  but  strong.  The  story  runs  that  after  he 
left  the  High  School  here — where  he  did  not  succeed 
very  well,  he  was  very  young  —  he  lounged  around 
New  York  awhile  and  finally  thought,  well,  he  didn't 
know,  guessed  he'd  be  a  minister.  The  Association 
met  in  a  week,  he  went,  was  examined,  admitted, 
preached  a  sermon,  and  ivas  a  minister. 

JUNE  16. 

I  am  perfectly  well  and  strong  and  vigorous,  and 
don't  even  get  very  tired,  so  you  need  not  have  any 
anxiety  about  me.  My  vases  and  tumblers  and  mugs 
are  all  full  of  flowers  which  the  scholars  have  brought. 
One  of  my  boys  brought  me  a  note  from  a  boy  who 
does  not  now  attend  school,  asking  me  to  excuse  the 
first  one  from  school,  that  they  might  take  a  walk  in 
the  woods  together.  As  they  were  both  good  boys  I 
let  them  go,  and  when  I  was  going  home  from  school, 
I  met  them  with  their  hands  full  of  checkerberry 
leaves,  which  they  gave  me,  saying  they  had  picked 
them  for  me,  as  a  kind  of  peace  offering,  I  suppose. 
Saturday  I  did  a  variety  of  mending,  more  sewing 
than  I  have  done  before  in  all  the  term,  I  rather 
think,  and  went  to  a  prayer  meeting  in  the  after- 


BEGINNINGS   OF  AUTHORSHIP  161 

noon.  I  have  not  been  before  this  term,  but  as  it 
was  very  rainy,  and  I  thought  there  would  not  be 
many  there,  I  concluded  to  sanction  it  with  my  pres 
ence.  That  is  my  principle.  I  don't  feel  it  a  partic 
ular  duty  to  go  to  church  when  everybody  else  goes. 

Mr.  Wilcox  has  had  an  invitation  to  go  to  Sandwich 
Islands  to  be  Professor  in  a  college  in  Honolulu.  The 
gentleman  who  was  after  him  was  here  Wednesday 
and  wanted  him  to  decide  that  night.  He  said  he 
could  not  decide  without  going  to  New  Haven  to  see 
his  mother,  so  they  went  down  that  night,  was  to 
return  in  the  morning  but  did  not,  telegraphed  to  me 
at  ten  o'clock  that  he  was  detained  till  noon,  and  that 
"  probabilities  were  poised."  He  did  not  come  at 
noon,  and  I  have  not  yet  seen  him.  His  mother's 
only  brother  is  living  in  Honolulu,  and  several  ladies 
of  his  father's  congregation,  and  he  thinks  his  mother 
and  sisters  might  possibly  go  with  him.  Salary 
would  be  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a  year.  We  rather 
advise  him  to  go. 

JUNE  23. 

Grace  Greenwood  or  rather  her  husband  sent  me  a 
very  nice  organdie  muslin  dress  pattern  last  Saturday. 
In  writing  to  him  a  few  days  before,  I  sent  him  three 
samples  of  muslin,  asking  him  which  he  advised  me  to 
buy.  He  replied  that  he  thought  them  all  too  much 
inclined  to  lilac  to  suit  ray  complexion,  and  so 
ventured  to  send  me  a  dress,  and  as  one  good  turn 
deserves  another,  he  sent  me  enclosed  two  bits  of 
black  and  white  checked  cloth,  and  begged  to  know 
which  I  thought  would  be  the  best  to  mend  his  black 
trousers  with  !  He  did  not  say  whether  he  expected 
me  to  send  him  a  new  pair  of  trousers  by  return  of 
mail. 


162     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

JUNE  25. 

Mrs.  Downing  is  a  lady  from  Newburgh,  New 
York.  Do  you  remember  the  burning  of  the  steam 
ship  "  Henry  Clay,"  on  Hudson  River,  several  years 
ago?  It  was  very  near  shore,  and  many  swam  and 
were  saved,  but  many  lost.  She  and  her  husband, 
mother,  and  sister  were  on  board.  He  was  a  good 
swimmer,  and  got  her  safe  on  shore,  but  in  trying  to 
save  the  others  was  himself  drowned.  It  is  supposed 
that  some  one  clung  to  him  and  drew  him  under.  He 
was  perhaps  the  finest  designer,  or  architect,  in  the 
country,  and  in  the  prime  of  life.  This  lady  is  his 
widow.  I  took  out  also  a  letter  from  Mr.  Lippin- 
cott,  Grace  G.'s  husband,  who  declared  that  if  he 
should  be  asked  to  point  out  a  goose,  and  the  goosiest 
goose  that  ever  moulted  feather,  he  should  direct  the 
person  so  asking,  to  me. 

Mother,  if  you  don't  want  to  go  to  heaven  before 
your  time  don't  do  anything  this  warm  weather. 
Fasten  up  the  doors,  sit  in  the  smallest  possible  quan 
tity  of  clothing,  and  take  a  palm-leaf  fan,  which,  by 
the  way,  may  be  had  for  three  cents.  Don't  you  want 
me  to  invest  in  them  for  you? 

Good  morning, 

Yours  affectionately, 

ABBY. 

Sunday  I  did  not  go  to  church,  but  read  and  rested 
and  slept  at  home.  Monday  John  carried  me  to 
school.  I  had  a  little  headache,  but  not  of  any  con 
sequence.  At  noon  I  went  to  Mrs.  Olmsted's  to 
dinner.  Aunt  Maria  was  there  from  Litchlicld.  They 
began  to  scold  because  I  had  stayed  away  so  long, 
but  after  I  told  them  1  had  been  sick,  kept  on  scold- 


BEGINNINGS   OF  AUTHORSHIP  ]  63 

ing  because  I  came  out  so  soou.  Mrs.  Olmsted  per 
sists  in  her  belief  that  I  shall  finally  be  insane.  Other 
people,  I  am  bound  to  add,  do  not  give  her  much 
credit.  Tuesday  morning  it  was  very  warm  and  pleas 
ant,  and  I  walked  to  school.  Miss  Perkins,  daughter 
of  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe,  and  a  Miss 
Beecher,  who  I  believe  is  herself  a  teacher,  were  in 
school  awhile  in  the  morning.  Towards  noon  it  rained 
and  I  rode  home  and  back  again.  I  mention  this 
that  you  may  see  I  have  good  care  taken  of  me.  In 
fact,  I  have  only  to  hint  a  wish,  and  a  horse,  carriage, 
and  man  are  at  my  disposal.  For  two  or  three  days, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  there  had  been  a  slight  rent  in  my 
velvet  belt  where  I  wear  my  watch,  and  I  am  sorrier 
to  say  my  watch  had  several  times  slipped  out,  and  I 
am  sorriest  of  all  to  say  that  Tuesday  noon  it  came 
out  with  a  crash  against  one  of  the  benches,  and 
smash  went  the  crystal !  I  gathered  up  the  fragments 
and  distributed  them  among  the  Senior  class  as  me 
mentoes  of  me.  (The  belt  is  not  mended  yet.  Don't 
scold.)  Tuesday  night  I  went  to  Mrs.  Owen's  to  tea, 
and  to  go  to  Brownlee  Brown's  lecture  on  painting, 
but  Mrs.  Owen  was  going  to  a  party.  She  gave  me 
her  ticket,  however,  and  I  went  over  to  the  Hunt's 
and  went  with  them,  and  afterwards  returned  to  Mrs. 
Owen's  and  spent  the  night.  To-day  I  went  to  Bolles 
and  Roberts'  with  Misses  Tallaut  and  Hunt,  to  look 
at  pictures,  among  others  one  of  East  Rock,  New 
Haven. 

SEPTEMBER  17. 

The  expected  letter  came  yesterday.  He  says : 
"We  are  satisfied  and  gratified.  Come,  then,  just 
as  soon  as  you  can,  and  advise  us  of  the  time  of  your 
starting.  If  I  could  be  certain  of  the  day  and  hour 


164     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IX    LETTERS 

of  your  arrival,  I  or  some  one  would  meet  you  with 
my  carriage.  As  to  money  matters  '  be  aisy.'  I  know 
something  about  the  sore  point  in  women.  Better  not 
let  the  Hartford  people  persuade  you  to  stay  even  a 
week,"  etc.,  etc. 

I  had  a  letter  from  L.  K.  L.  last  Thursday  contain 
ing  a  photograph  of  Grace.  It  is  a  very  handsome 
face  and  must,  I  think,  be  rather  flattering,  as  I  have 
always  understood  that  she  is  not  handsome.  The 
eyes  and  hair  are  very  fine.  I  sent  her  a  letter  the 
next  day  announcing  my  decision  to  go  to  Washington, 
and  asking  about  the  disposition  of  her  essay.  I  will 
let  you  know  when  I  hear  from  her.  I  have  delayed 
finishing  this  letter  because  I  wanted  to  give  you  some 
definite  information  about  my  journey.  Miss  —  -  is 
here  in  town.  She  came  down  to  see  me  yesterday  at 
the  schoolhouse,  and  spent  an  hour  in  giving  me  in 
formation  on  various  subjects  connected  with  Wash 
ington.  She  was  very  happy  there,  but  I  am  perfectly 
certain  that  I  shall  be  awfully  homesick.  They  dine 
at  three,  and  have  supper  at  eight,  brought  into  the 
parlor  by  two  waiters,  and  there  is  always,  almost, 
company  there.  That  of  itself  will  be  horrible.  Only 
she  says  Dr.  Bailey  is  not  well,  and  that  may  be  a 
reason  why  they  will  be  more  quiet  than  they  have 
been.  I  am  sorry  he  is  ill,  but  on  the  other  hand  I 
cannot  say  I  wish  to  be  swallowed  up  by  society. 
Well,  as  you  very  justly  remarked,  one  can  bear  to 
be  homesick  for  a  year.  Mr.  Huntington  says  he 
hopes  Dr.  Bailey  lives  where  he  can  say  ' '  Good  morn 
ing  "  to  me  once  in  a  while.  He  said  yesterday  he 
should  call  early  and  take  me  over  to  Georgetown  to 
see  the  monks  and  nuns,  etc.  One  of  my  old  grad- 


BEGINNINGS  OF   AUTHORSHIP 

uates  sent  me  yesterday  a  glass  dish  of  grapes  and 
flowers  as  a  farewell  gift. 

Now  about  your  coming.  I  want  you  to  come.  I 
think  I  shall  be  able  to  get  ready  so  that  the  most  of 
my  time  can  be  devoted  to  you,  and  you  can  be  intro 
duced  to  the  lions  on  Saturday  at  least.  You  need 
not  come  solely  on  my  account,  or  because  you  think 
I  shall  be  disappointed  if  you  don't.  I  want  you  to 
come  to  see  Hartford.  I  shall  take  you  down  to  see 
some  of  my  friends  if  you  would  like  to  see  them,  and 
I  think  you  would. 

WASHINGTON,  D.C.,  Sept.  29,  1858. 

At  the  station  I  found  several  of  the  teachers  and 
all  the  girls  of  the  Senior  class  except  one  who  is  in 
New  York,  and  all  the  boys  who  are  in  town  —  of 
course  there  was  a  crowd.  When  I  entered  the  cars 
I  had  to  pass  through  two  or  three  before  I  could  find 
a  seat,  and  they  would  all  move  when  I  moved,  form 
ing  a  very  respectable  procession.  When  I  subsided 
they  collected  round  the  window  and  altogether  looked 
so  funny  I  could  not  tell  whether  to  laugh  or  cry,  so 
did  both,  I  believe.  We  went  on  to  New  Haven  —  Mr. 
Curtis,  Mr.  Owen,  and  I  —  then  to  New  York  with 
Mr.  Owen,  where  we  stayed  over  night.  In  the  even 
ing  we  patronized  the  Academy  of  Music.  Now, 
mother,  the  A.  of  M.  is  not  a  theatre,  not  in  the  least. 
It  is  an  Italian  Opera.  The  building  is  new  and  very 
splendid  in  its  way,  but  not  the  least  bit  like  our 
meeting-house!  There  is  an  enormous  amount  of 
white  paint  and  gilding,  and  red  cloth,  and  little 
cupids  without  any  clothes  on,  stuck  all  over  it,  and 
a  great  many  women  who  thought  they  looked  pretty 


166     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

and  did,  and  a  great  many  more  who  thought  they 
did  and  didn't  —  and  some  had  on  bonnets  and  some 
had  none  —  and  many  Germans  and  many  Americans 
with  hair  on  their  lips  and  occasionally  on  their  heads, 
fluttered  about  here  and  there  —  a  man  by  the  stage 
in  white  kid  gloves  whisked  his  stick,  and  then  the 
music  began,  and  the  curtain  rose,  and  there  was  a 
wood,  then  twenty  or  thirty  men  marched  into  the 
wood,  and  none  of  their  stockings  came  up  to  their 
knees,  and  none  of  their  frocks  came  down,  and  not 
a  trowser  among  them  all,  and  everything  they  said 
was  in  Italian,  and  they  did  not  say  anything  at  all 
but  sung  it — and  they  flourished  awhile,  and  then 
went  off  and  a  couple  of  women  came  on  dressed  in 
an  out  of  the  way  style,  and  one  seemed  to  be  in 
great  distress  and  the  other  with  an  arm  like  a  sledge 
hammer  was  continually  picking  her  up  when  she 
fainted  and  lopped  —  which  was  no  easy  matter,  for 
she  kept  up  a  steady  fainting  and  lopping  all  the  time, 
till  a  man  came  and  the  sledge-hammer  went  off,  and 
the  other  bounced  into  the  man's  arms  and  the  man 
bounced  into  hers,  and  then  they  bounced  back  again 
and  so  on  till  that  scene  was  over. 

Then  thirty  or  forty  more  men  and  women  came 
on  and  one  was  supposed  to  be  a  prince,  with  white 
embroidered  pantalets  a  deal  too  short  and  ankle- 
tie  shoes  and  a  light  blue  thing  that  was  put  on  for  a 
coat  but  was  more  like  a  short  night-gown,  and  he 
wanted  to  marry  the  fainting  lady  and  she  did  not 
want  to  marry  him,  and  one  yelled  and  another  yelled 
and  they  all  yelled,  and  she  went  into  a  perfect 
thunder  shower  of  fainting  fits,  and  they  got  into  a 
terrible  muss  generally  and  the  Italian  opera  was 
over  —  or  rather  two  acts  were  over,  for  we  didn't 


BEGINNINGS  OF  AUTHORSHIP  167 

stay  to  see  it  out.  Then  I  went  home  and  went  to 
bed  and  had  a  very  comfortable  night's  sleep.  After 
an  early  breakfast,  was  taken  to  the  ferry  boat,  Mr. 
Owen  crossing  with  me,  when  he  found  a  Mr.  C. 
who  was  going  to  Philadelphia,  and  consigned  me  to 
his  care.  He  was  familiar  with  the  route  and  pointed 
out  all  the  objects  of  interest.  At  Philadelphia  Mr. 
C.  found  a  Mr.  M.  from  Mississippi  who  was  going 
to  Washington.  He  was  a  very  sensible  man  and 
slept  most  of  the  time,  except  when  I  spoke  to  him, 
which  I  did  occasionally  to  see  him  jump.  He  had  a 
bad  habit  of  receiving  my  most  trifling  remarks  with 
an  air  of  deep  solemnity,  which  was  very  provoking. 
It  is  bad  enough  to  say  foolish  things,  but  it  is  a  good 
deal  worse  to  have  people  think  that  you  think  you 
have  said  something  wise.  Then  he  would  be  asleep 
when  we  had  to  change,  and  I  would  spare  his  feel 
ings  and  not  wake  him,  knowing  that  the  people  jost 
ling  against  him  in  passing  out  would  do  that,  and 
suddenly  he  would  start  up  and  look  wildly  around 
and  say,  "Are  you  going  to  get  out?"  "Perhaps 
weh  ad  better,  sir,  the  people  seem  to  be  getting  out." 
I  managed  to  pick  up  his  things  for  him  and  poke  him 
along  till  we  got  safely  to  Washington,  but  it  was  a 
great  care  for  me.  We  had  to  change  cars  ever  so 
many  times  —  crossed  rivers  in  boats  three  times  — 
the  Hudson,  Delaware,  and  Susquehauua.  We  rode 
through  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore  in  horse  cars. 
Marcellus  met  me  at  the  station  in  Washington  and 
took  me  home.  It  was  about  eight  o'clock  when  we 
got  to  the  house,  where  I  saw  the  whole  family.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Bailey  are  very  polite  and  kind  and  home 
like.  You  are  to  give  yourself  no  uneasiness  about 
me,  as  I  really  think  I  shall  be  very  comfortable. 


168     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IX   LETTERS 

SEPTEMBER  30. 

DEAR  "  OLD  FOLKS  AT  HOME"  :  Where  did  I  leave 
you  last  ?  Did  I  tell  you  about  going  down  the  first 
evening,  and  about  Grace  Greenwood's  picture?  It 
hangs  in  the  parlor  and  represents  her  as  a  very 
handsome  woman.  They  told  me  about  her  being 
here,  and  her  husband  boarded  opposite  and  used  to 
be  sending  love  letters  over  to  her,  Marcellus  said. 
They  talked  about  Mr.  Wood,  too,  and  gave  him  a 
great  many  virtues.  I  asked  if  he  wore  gold-bowed 
spectacles,  and  was  told  that  he  did,  and  was  showed 
his  portrait.  He  looks  as  clever  as  a  kitten.  He  is 
away  now,  but  is  very  enthusiastic,  I  am  told,  at  the 
prospect  of  G.  H.'s  advent.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that 
when  we  were  driving  to  the  ferry,  Mr.  Owen  and  I 
had  a  confidential  talk.  He  said  I  knew  that  as  long 
as  the  present  administration  lasted,  there  would 
alway  be  a  place  in  the  High  School  for  me.  I  said, 
suppose  there  should  be  no  vacancy.  He  said  that  if 
I  expressed  a  wish  at  any  time  to  return,  there  would 
be  a  vacancy  found  fast  enough,  and  if  no  other  way 
opened,  they  would  increase  the  number  of  teachers 
for  awhile,  so  that  if  I  found  in  the  course  of  five  or 
six  weeks  I  was  not  going  to  like,  to  have  no  delicacy 
about  returning.  I  don't  think  I  shall,  but  it  is  pleas 
ant  to  know  I  can.  Mr.  C.  told  me  on  the  way  that 
I  should  find  a  great  difference  in  treatment  at  the 
South,  that  people  there  thought  much  more  of  my 
profession  than  people  at  the  North.  I  replied  at 
once  that  I  did  not  wish  to  be  treated  any  better  than 
I  had  been,  that  I  had  been  more  than  appreciated 
and  wondered  that  people  thought  as  much  of  me  as 
they  did.  He  looked  slightly  astonished,  but  I  wasn't 


BEGINNINGS   OF   AUTHORSHIP  169 

going  to  have  him  considering  me  as  one  of  the  down 
trodden. 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Bailey  both  said  that  I  must  have  one 
day  to  look  round  in,  so  they  ordered  the  carriage  and 
drove  me  round  the  city  to  get  a  general  view.  The 
streets  are  very  broad  and  everything  has  an  unfin 
ished  look,  and  nearly  everything  is  unfinished,  but 
the  buildings  will  be  splendid  when  they  are  finished. 
The  Potomac  is  a  broad  and  beautiful  river,  not  very 
pretty  color,  but  bright  in  the  sun  and  with  green  and 
wooded  banks.  Pennsylvania  Avenue  is  the  main 
street,  and  has  the  Capitol  at  one  end  and  the  White 
House  at  the  other.  The  latter  is  smaller  and  more 
home-like  than  I  supposed,  and  the  public  buildings 
far  finer  and  grander.  There  are  very  few  elegant 
private  residences.  Judge  Douglas'  house,  Lord  Na 
pier's,  and  some  others  were  pointed  out  to  me.  It 
will  take  at  least  a  year  to  see  all  I  want  to  see.  We 
did  not  examine  anything  yesterday.  I  will  enter 
into  details  when  I  have  details  to  enter  into.  After 
I  returned  home,  Judge  Huntington  called  to  see  me 
and  stayed  till  dinner  time.  I  was  very  glad  to  see 
him,  and  rather  surprised,  as  I  had  not  supposed  he 
would  call  so  soon.  After  dinner  —  (and  by  the  way, 
Augusta,  we  don't  live  in  the  way  you  surmise  at  all. 
We  have  hot  corn-bread  and  biscuits,  cold  bread, 
meat,  etc.,  at  breakfast;  sweet  potatoes,  one  or  two 
kinds  of  meat,  sauce,  beans,  fruit,  etc.,  for  dinner, 
and  supper  I  have  been  down  to  only  once)  — I  wrote 
letters  most  of  the  time  to  you  and  Mr.  Curtis,  the 
latter  of  which  I  bequeathed  to  the  citizens  of  Hart 
ford  generally. 

Yesterday  afternoon  we  took  a  delightful  drive  into 
the  country.  In  fact,  we  drive  every  day  after  dinner, 


170     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

not  missing  a  day.  They  have  a  large  carriage,  two 
seats,  with  the  top  thrown  back,  I  don't  know  what 
you  call  it.  We  get  through  dinner  about  four.  I 
shall  not  drive  every  day,  as  I  Avant  the  time,  but 
the  weather  is  very  delightful  now,  and  I  want  to  see 
everything.  You  just  go  across  a  common  and  you 
are  in  the  country  at  once,  and  a  "  very  pretty  coun 
try,"  as  Mr.  Mitchell  would  say.  A  great  many  trees 
and  beautiful  trees  ;  cedar,  just  as  regular  as  if  they 
were  trimmed  every  day,  and  hills  and  woods  and 
water.  Oh,  it  is  magnificent.  I  haven't  enjoyed 
anything  so  much  as  that  drive  in  the  country.  Mr. 
Corcoran's  house  and  grounds  are  splendid  and  splen 
didly  laid  out.  Do  you  not  remember  reading  about 
a  rich  banker  in  Washington  who  had  a  fuss  about 
his  daughter  and  a  Spanish  cavalier?  Well,  he  is  the 
man.  Senators  Douglas,  Rice,  and  Vice-Presideut 
Breckeuridge  live  in  one  block  of  dingy,  ugly  old 
brick  houses,  though  they  are  said  to  be  very  elegant 
inside.  In  the  evening  a  Miss  Hatty  Lindsay,  who 
visited  in  Hartford,  and  who  is  the  sister  of  Mrs. 
Washburn,  Judge  Huutington's  minister,  was  here. 
She  came  up  into  my  room  a  little  while.  Afterwards 
Mr.  Huntington  called  and  spent  the  evening  with 
me.  I  am  waiting  for  him  now  to  call  and  go  up  to 
the  Capitol  with  me.  His  office  is  in  the  Capitol  and 
he  knows  all  about  it,  of  course,  so  I  shall  have  a  fine 
chance  to  see  things.  I  finished  a  piece  for  the  "  Cou- 
gregationalist  "  this  morning.  I  have  my  table  in  the 
corner  of  my  room  and  it  is  about  covered  with  the 
gifts  of  my  friends. 

I  have  just  been  reading  an  account  of  the  burning 
of  the  "Austria."  That  Mr.  Busch  was  lost  on  board 
it.  He  was  drawing-teacher  in  our  school.  I  went  to 


BEGINNINGS   OF  AUTHORSHIP  171 

the  Capitol  this  morning  and  tired  myself  out  with 
sight-seeing.  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  half.  First 
we  went  to  Judge  H.'s  rooms.  The  ceiling  and  walls 
are  all  painted  in  oil  and  frescoed,  and  it  is  so  in  all 
the  rooms.  Beautiful  paintings,  imitating  those  found 
in  the  old  Greek  and  Roman  cities.  Tapestry  carpets, 
and  velvet  chairs,  and  marble-top  sinks,  and  plated 
pitchers,  and  everything  is  on  the  same  scale  in  all 
the  smaller  office  and  committee  rooms.  The  new 
senate  chamber,  not  yet  finished,  is  a  marvel  of  gild 
ing  and  paint,  simple  and  really  pretty  I  think  —  alto 
gether  unlike  the  Musical  Academy  at  New  York,  yet 
very  elaborate.  In  the  room  of  the  Court  of  Claims 
there  are,  I  believe,  three  windows  only,  the  curtains 
and  curtain  fixtures  to  which  cost  $750.00.  They 
are  a  red  woolleny  cloth,  wrought  with  yellow  silk, 
and  manufactured  in  Manchester,  England,  and  very 
heavy  and  rich.  The  tops  as  well  as  the  sides  of  the 
rooms  are  all  painted  with  pictures,  you  must  remem 
ber.  For  instance,  there  will  be  an  oblong  place  of  the 
size  and  shape  of  a  large  window,  painted  blue,  and 
ornamented  all  around,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  blue, 
a  woman.  In  the  Senate  and  House  there  are  no 
paintings,  but  the  cornices,  ceiling,  etc.,  are  white 
and  gold.  We  went,  also,  into  the  old  Senate  cham 
ber.  I  wanted  to  ask  which  was  Charles  Sumner's 
seat,  but  I  did  not.  However,  Mr.  H.  pointed  that 
out  to  me  first  of  all.  I  made  myself  at  home  in  the 
Speaker's  stand,  went  up  in  the  galleries,  opened 
the  desks,  went  down  cellar  and  saw  the  machinery 
for  warming  and  ventilating  the  building,  which  is 
about  the  most  wonderful  part  of  the  whole,  — and, 
oh !  wouldn't  it  make  father  hitch  to  see  the  fires  they 
keep,  even  now,  night  and  day,  —  into  the  library,  and 


172     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

oh !  the  books,  and  the  tasteful  room,  and  the  balus 
trades,  and  oh !  the  splendid  marble  columns,  and  the 
balusters  of  red  marble,  and  the  statuary  that  is  going 
to  be  put  up  when  the  whole  is  finished  ;  and  oh !  the 
views  from  the  windows,  and  oh !  my,  well,  I  can't 
give  you  the  least  idea  of  it  anyway.  The  building 
itself  covers  eight  acres,  and  the  grounds  eight  thou 
sand  for  aught  I  know.  I  don't  know  how  extensive 
they  are.  The  wings  are  new,  the  centre  is  the  old 
Capitol.  The  north  wing  contains  the  Senate.  The 
south  contains  the  House.  The  central  dome  is  also 
unfinished.  It  is  to  be  raised,  I  should  think,  more 
than  twice  as  high  as  it  now  is.  There  does  not  seem 
to  be  any  wood  about  the  building.  The  staircases 
are  of  marble,  the  balusters  marble,  overhead  it  is 
either  iron  or  painted.  The  dome  is  of  iron.  The 
grounds  are  very  fine  and  extensive.  I  went  up  there 
this  evening  to  hear  the  band  play.  A  motley  group 
was  collected.  We  are  having  delightful  weather  for 
almost  anything — cool  enough  to  be  comfortable, 
and  warm  enough  to  sit  out  doors  and  talk.  The 
streets  arc  very  dusty.  I  went  downstairs  this  even 
ing  and  had  a  pleasant  enough  time,  but  I  heard  the 
door-bell  ring,  and  scud,  notwithstanding  Dr.  Bailey 
called  to  me  to  wait  and  see  who  it  was. 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON 

1858-1859 


173 


FIRST    YEAR    IN   WASHINGTON 

1858-1859 

OCTOBER  5. 

You  are  anxious  to  have  "  a  history  of  the  operation 
of  the  water- works,"  leaving  Hartford.  You  want 
to  gloat  over  them,  don't  you?  Very  well,  here  goes. 
Monday  morning  I  gave  particular  notice  that  I  did 
not  want  rny  friends  to  bid  me  good-bye.  So  when 
the  time  came,  I  went  down  into  the  closet  to  put  on 
my  bonnet  and  shawl  like  a  sensible  person,  but  Miss 
Hunt  must  needs  come  down  and  set  to,  and  of  course 
that  upset  me,  so  I  indulged  in  a  hysteric  or  two  on 
the  spot,  and  then  "  choked  off."  When  I  got  to  Mr. 
Owen's  he  was  just  going  into  his  garden,  and  he  be 
gan  to  scold  me  for  wearing  my  veil  down,  and  to 
make  me  lift  it  up,  and  then  I  began  to  laugh,  etc., 
again,  so  he  cried  "There!  stop  that!"  and  finally 
poked  off  upstairs  and  said  he  was  sure  he  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  and  should  send  down  Mrs.  O.  and 
the  Dr.  I  sat  on  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  Mrs. 
Owen  and  the  Dr.  came  to  the  head.  The  latter  pre 
scribed  a  brandy  sling  which  Mr.  O.  prepared  and  I 
drank  with  Spartan  firmness.  So  with  occasional  es 
says  at  navigation  I  went  on  dry  laud  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  journey.  In  the  afternoon  we  took  a 
175 


176     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

drive  through  the  grounds  of  the  Mr.  Corcoran  whom 
I  have  mentioned  before.  Everything  except  the 
house  is  on  a  fine  scale.  Old  stone  bridges  with  ivy 
trailing  over  them,  broad  fields  trimmed  like  a  lawn, 
a  plantation  of  young  trees  to  be  transplanted,  forests 
of  old  trees  that  never  were  transplanted,  stone  barns, 
and  stables,  and  pens,  and  a  little  wooden  cottage,  and 
a  big  stone  porter's  lodge,  bear  witness  of  the  purse 
and  the  taste  of  the  great  Mr.  Corcoran,  who  began 
life  as  a  poor  boy,  and  will  probably  end  it  as  a  rich 
man,  leaving  as  much  of  his  property  as  he  chooses  to 
his  only  daughter,  whom  report  declares  to  be  silly  and 
avaricious.  The  gold-spectacled  The-ban  has  not  yet 
entered  the  capital  city  of  America,  but  the  frequent 
mention  of  his  name  prevents  a  withdrawal  of  my  in 
terest  in  him.  Saturday  evening  I  went  down  to  look 
at  the  comet,  but  the  comet  was  not  visible  behind 
clouds. 

OCTOBER  11. 

Mrs.  Bailey  informed  me  that  she  had  had  twelve 
children.  They  lost  five  children  in  Cincinnati,  and 
one,  the  youngest,  since  they  came  to  Washington. 
Marcellus,  the  eldest,  is  their  fifth  child.  There  was 
but  a  year's  difference  between  the  ages  of  several. 
They  have  been  mobbed  three  times,  twice  in  Cin- 
cinati  and  once  in  Washington.  The  Dr.  has  three 
printing-presses  in  the  Ohio  River.  During  the  first 
six  months  of  their  residence  in  Washington  but  one 
lady  called  on  Mrs.  Bailey.  When  they  were  mobbed 
here,  the  excitement  and  tumult  lasted,  I  believe, 
three  days.  One  night  their  friends  came  in,  took  up 
their  sleeping  children  from  the  bed  and  carried  them 
to  the  house  of  the  Mayor  for  safety.  The  trouble 
was  his  persisting  in  publishing  an  anti-slavery  news- 


FIRST   YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  177 

paper.  Dr.  Bailey  has  been  in  Washington  twelve 
years,  and  has  never  had  any  trouble  since  the 
second  year. 

Wednesday,  October  13.  He  has  come,  the  "  gold- 
spectacled  Theban."  Little  Maggie  came  up  into  my 
room  last  night  and  said  —  ' '  There  is  a  gentleman 
downstairs  who  wants  to  see  you  very  much."  I  said 
at  once,  Mr.  Wood?  "  The  same."  I  asked  her  if 
her  father  sent  her  up.  She  said  ''No,  but  she  knew 
Mr.  Wood  wanted  to  see  me,"  for  Frank  said  some 
thing  about  Miss  Abby,  and  Mr.  Wood  jumped  and 
said  uOh!  where  is  she?"  However,  I  made  her  go 
down  without  me.  Presently  up  she  trotted  again : 
"  Pa  wants  you  to  come  downstairs  very  much,  and 
Mr.  Wood  told  me  to  tell  you  not  to  wait,  to  come 
right  down  this  minute,  he  is  very  impatient  to  see  you, 
but  ma  said,  '  No,  Maggie,  don't  tell  her  that,  for 
she  won't  come  if  you  do.'  "  So  I  took  a  slip  of  paper 
and  wrote  : 

Let  the  line  represent  Miss  Abby  prostrate  with  terror 
at  the  feet  of  Mr.  Wood.  Corollary  —  Unable  to  move  a 
step.  Scholium — Traid  to.  Lemma  —  (di).  Given 
under  my  hand  and  seal  — 

and  sent  her  down  again.  In  the  course  of  an  hour 
or  so,  Fanny,  the  oldest  girl,  came  up  and  said,  4i  Pa 
wanted  me  to  come  down,  that  Mr.  Wood  would  be 
very  much  disappointed  if  I  did  not."  He  had  just 
come  in  from  the  cars,  Fanny  said,  and  had  not  been 
home,  but  had  been  up  in  ma's  room  and  washed  and 
"  fixed  "  himself  on  purpose  to  see  me,  as  he  said  he 
should  be  ashamed  to  have  me  see  him  covered  with 
dust.  She  said  moreover  what  was  I  going  to  do  this 
winter?  I  answered,  "  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the 
evil  thereof."  "Well,"  she  said,  "  Pa  said  he  was 


178     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

going  to  pitch  me  right  in."  However,  I  thought  I 
would  not  be  pitched  right  in  at  once,  and  as  I  had 
set  out  not  to  go  down,  I  might  as  well  keep  it  up. 
So  I  wrote  back  something  like  this  : 

BULLETIN  2. 

To  the  Autocrat  of  all  the  Baileys. 

MY  DEAR  SIR  :  I  suppose  I  am  beginning  to  suffer  the 
tortures  of  a  long  martyrdom.  If  I  had  been  downstairs 
when  Mr.  Wood  came,  I  should  not  have  minded  it,  but 
as  for  going  down  now  and  making  myself  a  spectacle  to 
angels  and  to  men,  I  cannot  do  it.  Do  you  remember  an 
attack  of  delirium  tremens  I  had  at  Hartford  about  a  year 
ago  ?  Do  you  want  to  witness  another  such  scene  ?  What 
mean  ye  to  break  my  heart  ?  Anything  you  say  to  Mr. 
W.  I  will  subcribe  to,  but  don't  ask  me  to  come  down. 

Yours  collapsingly, 

M.  A.  D. 

and  I  poked  Fanny  downstairs  again  and  heard  no 
more  from  them  then.  This  morning  when  I  went  down 
to  breakfast,  the  Dr.  began,  "  Well,  I  think  youought 
to  be  called  Miss  Dodge,"  and  went  on  berating  me 
for  not  coming  down.  Mr.  Wood  would  be  very  much 
grieved.  Mr.  Wood  was  on  tenter-hooks,  Marcellus 
said,  and  so  they  had  it.  I  suppose  I  must  make  up 
my  mind  to  face  him  to-night. 

Thursday,  October  14.  The  deed  is  done,  the 
great  victory  achieved.  About  seven  last  night  I  re 
luctantly  arose  to  put  myself  into  presentable  condi 
tion,  donned  my  purple  dotted  muslin,  brushed  my 
luxuriant  tresses,  mits,  collar,  etc.,  and  went  down 
stairs.  The  door-bell  rang,  Mr.  Wood  was  announced, 
and  came  in.  We  were  introduced.  He  has  been 
cruising  round  the  country  a  long  while,  was  in  Hart 
ford  a  few  days  after  I  left,  and  said  he  had  hoped  to 


FIRST   YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON  179 

come  on  with  me.  We  went  on  talking,  the  comet 
came  up.  I  turned  to  Mrs.  Bailey  suddenly,  saying, 
"  there,  I  meant  to  look  at  the  comet  to-night."  He 
put  down  his  cup  of  tea,  the  cup  on  the  table,  the  tea 
down  his  throat  and  said,  "Come,  I'll  go  with  you 
to  see  it."  So  he  put  on  his  hat  and  I  caught  one  of 
the  children's  and  we  posted  down  two  or  three  streets 
after  the  comet.  We  did  not  see  it,  however,  and  I  did 
not  think  we  should  all  the  time,  as  it  was  too  late. 
Then  we  came  back.  We  had  a  circle  and  I  became 
quite  interested  in  the  conversation.  He  told  us  what 
he  had  done,  and  where  he  had  been,  and  the  distin 
guished  people  he  had  seen,  and  by  and  by  he  and 
the  Dr.  began  to  play  backgammon  and  I  "  scud" 
upstairs.  I  don't  like  him  so  well  as  I  expected.  He 
looks  3'ounger  than  I  expected  to  see  him. 

OCTOBER  25. 

We  went  to  see  the  Panorama  as  agreed  upon.  It 
was  really  fine,  the  first  part  in  Australia,  the  two 
last  in  China,  the  latter  particularly  good,  the  burning 
of  the  English  factories  in  Canton  quite  life-like,  the 
Chinese  buildings  well  portrayed,  and  those  fellows, 
those  rat-eating,  chop-sticky,  pig-tailed  Chinamen, 
have  an  idea  or  two  about  living.  Their  houses  are 
marvels  of  luxury.  Quite  an  event  that  day  was  the 
finding  of  our  cow.  We  have  had  one  for  ten  years, 
and  a  few  weeks  before  I  came  she  was  stolen,  to  the 
great  regret  of  all  the  family.  Since  I  came  here, 
another  one  has  been  bought  which  disappeared  for 
two  days,  giving  rise  to  the  fear  that  she  had  gone 
the  way  of  her  predecessor,  but  that  night,  as  we 
were  starting,  we  saw  the  cow  heading  for  home. 
Fred  ran  back,  told  the  people,  and  she  was  secured. 


180     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Dr.  Bailey  sent  upstairs  that  he  had  ordered  the  horse 
at  eleven  o'clock  and  wanted  me  to  go.  So  I  did, 
and  we  rode  till  a  few  minutes  to  three,  getting  out 
occasionally  to  gather  mosses,  berries,  flowers,  etc., 
or  to  get  a  good  view  from  the  hills.  We  rode  over 
"Georgetown  Heights,"  famous  in  history.  Mother's 
account  of  her  jaunt  to  Ipswich  on  the  occasion  of 
the  Teachers'  Institute  was  amusing,  instructive,  and 
highly  characteristic.  Mother's  inspirations  are  won 
derful  and  so  well  timed.  She  is  so  fertile  in  devices. 
I  was  to  go  to  hear  Dr.  Samson  with  Mr.  Wood  in 
the  evening,  but  he  did  not  come  and  I  hear  to-day 
that  he  is  ill.  1  hope  he  will  get  well,  for  he  is  very 
convenient  and  a  good  Christian  man,  1  think  some 
what  of  the  old-fashioned  stamp,  which  is  a  rara  avis 
in  this  latitude. 

There  has  been  here  this  evening  a  very  celebrated 
individual,  a  woman  of  indomitable  energy  and  per 
severance,  Mrs.  Myra  Clark  Gaines.  A  long  while 
ago  I  read  a  story  by  Mrs.  Ann  S.  Stephens,  entitled 
"  Phases  in  the  Life  of  Mrs.  Clark  Gaines."  Mrs.  S. 
applied  to  Mrs.  G.  for  the  facts  and  wrote  the  story 
thereon.  I  should  like  to  have  you  read  it.  I  will 
tell  you  about  her  sometime  if  you  don't  know.  She 
lays  claim  to  a  great  part  of  the  city  of  New  Orleans, 
of  which  property  she  has  been  defrauded.  Her 
claims  have  been  before  Congress  some  twenty  years. 
It  has  been  decided  against  her  once  and  is  coming 
up  again  this  winter.  She  was  twenty-six  years  old 
before  she  knew  who  she  was,  or  anything  about  her 
relatives.  The  property  is  immense,  she  does  not 
know  how  much.  She  was  just  leaving  the  room  as 
I  entered  and  I  did  not  know  who  she  was  till  she 
was  gone,  but  she  remains  here  this  winter  and  I  shall 


FIRST   YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  181 

probably  have  a  chance  to  see  her.  She  is  a  small, 
compact  woman,  a  widow,  very  generous,  with  an  in 
domitable  love  of  right.  I  hope  she  will  succeed  and 
think  she  will.  10.30  P.M.  Have  come  upstairs 
rather  early  and  will  just  tell  you  that  there  has  been 
a  gentleman  here  this  evening,  a  Mr.  Benson,  who  has 
whistled  most  beautifully.  He  whistles  an  accom 
paniment  and  plays  the  piano.  I  don't  know,  however, 
which  is  the  accompaniment,  the  piano  or  the  whist 
ling.  It  is  perfectly  charming,  just  like  a  bird.  He 
imitated  the  song  of  the  mocking-bird  and  the  canary, 
etc.  1  never  heard  anything  like  it  before.  I  had  a 
splendid  walk  before  breakfast  this  morning,  alone, 
started  twenty-five  minutes  past  six,  got  home  at 
eight. 

A  Mrs.  Dr.  -  — ,  whose  daughter's  husband  is  a 

rector  in ,  called  on  me  the  other  evening.  I 

don't  see  why  she  should.  I  have  no  doubt  she  is 
a  very  fine  woman,  a  devoted  wife,  an  affectionate 
mother,  and  a  useful  member  of  society,  but  I  have 
not  come  here  to  be  bored  with  calls  from  common 
people,  I  simply  want  to  see  the  celebrities,  and  no 
body  else.  I  hope  if  this  letter  is  ever  published  in 
my  memoirs,  my  executors  will  cause  this  passage  to 
be  expunged. 

Mr.  Wood  is  beyond  all  price.  He  keeps  close  by 
me,  and  as  I  feel  perfectly  free  with  him  I  can  ask 
him  all  manner  of  questions,  and  he  knows  everybody 
and  everything  about  them  ;  or  I  can  keep  still  and 
say  nothing  and  his  presence  serves  to  keep  every  one 
else  away  unless  the  whole  company  join  together, 
and  altogether  I  hope  Mr.  Wood's  life  will  be  spared 
so  long  as  Destiny  detains  me  in  Washington. 

It  just  occurs  to  me  to  say  that  if  father  wants  to 


182     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

hire  a  house  right  away  there  is  one  close  by  and  very 
convenient,  that  he  can  have  with  all  the  furniture, 
price  only  three  hundred  dollars  a  month  ! 

NOVEMBER  1. 

Last  Saturday  I  went  to  the  Patent  Office.  It  is  an 
immense  building  and  filled  with  glass  cases  contain 
ing  models  of  machines  that  have  been  invented  for 
every  purpose  under  the  sun  almost.  I  saw  also  a 
collection  of  birds  (stuffed)  of  the  most  beautiful 
plumage,  pea  green,  French  and  Mazarin  blue,  purple, 
scarlet,  crimson,  yellow,  etc.  There  was  a  model  of 
the  Washington  Monument,  the  very  printing-press 
at  which  Dr.  Franklin  worked,  a  model  of  the  Bastile, 
that  terrible  French  prison  torn  down  by  an  infuriated 
mob  years  ago,  a  statue  of  Washington.  The  Patent 
OH  ice  itself  is  a  most  magnificent  structure.  Fred  came 
up  last  evening  and  brought  me  a  note  from  Mr.  Wood 
containing  a  note  and  a  copy  of  verses  from  a  young 
lady  acquaintance  of  his  in  Boston.  She  had  written 
asking  his  advice  as  to  the  course  she  should  pursue 
in  life,  whether  her  literary  talent  could  be  made 
available,  what  course  of  reading  she  should  pursue, 
and  Mr.  Wood  had  recourse  to  me.  The  verses  are 
tolerable,  better  in  matter  than  in  manner,  and  verses 
and  letter  both  stiff.  I  wanted  to  write  an  answer  to 
that  and  something  else  beside,  so  I  told  Fred  I  should 
not  come  downstairs  that  evening,  unless  Mrs.  B. 
particularly  wished  it,  as  I  was  particularly  engaged, 
but  he  returned  immediately  saying  that  Mr.  Welling 
was  here  on  purpose  to  see  me,  and  it  would  be  abso 
lutely  rude  for  her  to  excuse  me  and  I  must  come 
down.  I  tore  round  and  didn't  swear,  but  should 
have  done  so  if  I  had  been  addicted  to  profanity.  I 


FIRST   YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  183 

mean  I  was  in  just  that  state  of  mind  in  which  exple 
tives  seem  to  afford  relief.  I  went  down,  lingering 
along  and  in  a  tremble  all  over.  I  stopped  in  the 
children's  room  and  played  with  them  awhile,  then 
step  by  step  till  I  was  half  way  downstairs  when  I 
stopped  again  and  listened  to  see  if  they  might  not  be 
playing  backgammon,  or  something  of  that  sort, 
which  would  make  my  entrance  less  embarrassing. 
No,  nothing  was  going  on,  so  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  "pitch  in,  school-ma'am,"  and  I 
gathered  up  my  forces  and  went.  When  I  began  to 
be  a  little  calm  I  went  to  the  mantel-piece  to  get  some 
knitting-work  that  Mrs.  B.  had  begun  for  me.  She, 
unlike  most  ladies,  keeps  at  work  through  all  her  calls, 
and  not  fancy  work  either.  She  is  at  present  engaged 
on  some  good,  stout,  coarse  blue  stockings  for  her 
boys.  Now  I  think  it  is  a  great  deal  less  awkward  to 
have  your  hands  employed,  so  I  begged  some  work 
and  she  bought  an  extra  pair  of  needles  and  gave  me 
some.  I  find  I  shall  spend  so  much  time  in  the  parlor 
that  I  shall  set  up  some  knitting  of  my  own.  Well, 
I  knit,  and  the  conversation  became  general  and  I 
really  enjoyed  it.  After  Marcel  had  played  several 
pieces  and  had  left  the  piano,  Mr.  Welling  came  to 
me  and  asked  me  to  give  them  a  song.  Didn't  I  ? 
Then  he  begun  to  talk,  and  I  don't  know  how  it 
happened,  but  we  got  talking  about  the  South  and  the 
North,  and  oh,  dear  me  !  it  was  a  quarter  to  twelve 
when  I  got  upstairs.  However,  I  got  along  quite  to 
my  own  satisfaction,  that  is,  I  did  not  make  any  awful 
blunders.  I  told  them  afterwards  about  my  trepida 
tion  in  coming  down,  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  B.  both  said 
that  I  did  not  show  it  in  the  least,  that  I  came  in  as 
easily  and  naturally  as  could  be.  Mr.  Welling  is 


184    GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

editor  of  the  "National  Intelligence"  —  a  youngish 
man,  perhaps  thirty-five,  with  a  rather  bald  head, 
black  hair  and  whiskers,  with  the  attendant  white  skin, 
small  hands  and  feet,  and  medium  size,  agreeable, 
natural,  and  sensible,  quite  above  the  average  in  a 
conversational  way  —  born  in  New  Jersey,  but  has 
lived  much  in  Virginia. 

Mrs.  Bailey  and  I  were  to  make  calls  to-day  on 
Mrs.  Gen.  Gaines,  Mrs.  Ann  S.  Stephens,  and  some 
other  celebrated  women.  I  wanted  to  see  them,  but  I 
was  afraid  to  go  till  Mrs.  B.  said  I  should  not  have  to 
speak  a  word.  Mrs.  Stephens  is  the  one  who  wrote 
Mrs.  Gaines'  story.  She  is  somewhat  noted  as  a 
writer. 

NOVEMBER  6. 

Took  my  letter  to  the  office  myself  to  go  in  the 
three  o'clock  mail.  It  is  of  course  an  immense  build 
ing  and  there  are  many  windows  and  boxes  and  I  did 
not  know  where  to  go.  Fred  told  me  there  was  a 
"lady's  window,"  and  as  I  could  see  uo  letter  box 
and  there  were  so  many  men  there  that  I  did  not  like 
to  go  round  looking  it  up,  so  I  thought  I  would  give 
my  letter  to  the  clerk  at  the  lady's  window,  but  as  I 
thought,  too,  that  I  did  not  want  him  to  think  I  knew 
so  little  as  to  suppose  that  was  the  right  place,  I 
thought  I  would  make  an  errand  and  ask  him  if  there 
were  any  letters  there  for  me,  and  so  hand  him  the 
letter  carelessly.  Well  I  did  so,  and  he  looked  and 
said  "yes,"  and  gave  me  one  from  mother,  dated 
October  26,  and  mailed,  I  cannot  see  when  —  then  he 
said  he  believed  there  was  another  which  had  been 
advertised.  I  said,  yes,  there  probably  was,  as  I  had 
lost  one —  he  looked  about  and  found  three,  one  from 
Augusta,  mailed  October  14,  another  mailed  October 


FIRST   YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  185 

9,  I  believe.  A  cent  was  due  on  each  one  for  advertis 
ing,  I  suppose.  I  had  no  money  and  they  never 
charge,  he  said.  I  thought  of  pawning  my  watch, 
but  could  scarcely  bring  my  mind  to  it,  and  so  ran 
home  some  three-quarters  of  a  mile,  got  my  three 
cents  and  took  my  letters.  Nothing  can  be  more 
free  and  easy  than  our  social  intercourse.  I  never 
feel  as  if  I  have  got  to  entertain,  or  be  entertained. 
Mr.  "Wood  is  in  almost  every  evening,  and  either  sits 
by  me,  or  makes  me  sit  by  him.  I  change  my  place 
occasionally  for  the  fun  of  seeing  him  strike  a  bee 
line  for  me  the  moment  he  comes  into  the  room.  I 
like  the  Dr.  and  his  wife  very  much.  The  Dr.  snaps 
out  occasionally,  but  never  to  me,  and  when  he  does 
to  his  wife  she  only  laughs  at  him.  She  says  that 
when  anything  goes  wrong  at  the  whist-table  he 
always  gives  her  a  poke  whether  it  is  her  play  or  not. 
She  is  bright  and  smart,  something  like  you,  tinkers 
up  all  the  broken  chairs,  varnished  the  parlor  furni 
ture  herself,  upholstered  the  sofa,  and  is  brimful  of 
energy.  He  and  she  are  on  terms  of  perfect  equality, 
and  the  effect  is  seen  in  the  equal  respect  which  the 
children  pay  to  both.  Friday  niyht  10.30.  I  have 
written  this  evening  to  you,  Alvin,  Mr.  Curtis,  and 
Mr.  Lippincott.  In  directing  Mr.  L's  letter  I  got  Bo 
down  for  Boston,  instead  of  Philadelphia.  I  erased 
it  and  directed  it  properly,  don't  you  think  I  am 
improving?  Then  I  went  on,  wrote  and  finished  my 
other  letters,  and  was  gathering  them  up  to  put  away 
when  my  eye  chanced  to  fall  on  the  direction  of  Mr. 
L's,  and  I  found  I  had  directed  to  Massachusetts, 
instead  of  Pennsylvania.  As  I  had  told  him  in  the 
letter  about  my  last  blunder  I  thought  the  joke  too 
good  to  be  lost,  so  I  opened  the  letter  again  to  write 


186     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

clown  an  account  of  this,  and  lo  !  instead  of  his  letter, 
there  was  a  sheet  of  yours !  You'd  better  think  I 
screamed  then,  though  I  was  all  alone.  I  think  now 
I  shall  take  all  the  letters  in  the  morning  and  read 
them  over  severally,  and  put  each  one  into  its  own 
wrapper  that  there  may  be  no  possibility  of  mistake. 
I  don't  think  I  am  growing  crazy,  and  I  asked  Mrs. 
Bailey  and  she  said  she  did  not  see  any  symptoms. 

Good-night. 

NOVEMBER  8. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Miss  Parsons,  the  lady  who  has 
taken  my  Literature  classes  in  the  High  School,  say 
ing  that  she  knew  from  the  constant  testimony  of 
teachers  and  scholars  how  my  classes  had  been 
taught,  and  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  spoiling  them, 
that  with  one  class  she  could  do  very  well,  but  with 
the  other  she  had  been  trying  to  struggle  into  a  plan 
in  vain,  was  in  a  perfect  Slough  of  Despond,  and 
wished  I  would  help  her  on  to  sound  ground  again. 
I  could  not  know  how  valuable  any  hints  would  be  to 
her,  etc.,  etc.  She  loved  the  school  too  much  to  wish 
to  leave  it,  but  should  have  certainly  shrunk  from  it 
had  she  known  beforehand.  I  wrote  her  that  even 
ing  a  long  letter  and  trust  it  will  do  her  good. 

Mr.  Wood  called  for  me  and  we  went  to  walk  down 
the  Avenue  (Pennsylvania,  which  is  the  Avenue)  to 
see  the  promenading.  After  dinner  is  the  walking 
hour.  The  men  are  out  of  their  offices  and  the 
women  out  of  their  nurseries  and  all  agog.  AVe  went 
into  several  bookstores  and  looked  at  pictures.  Mr. 
Wood,  being  a  literary  man,  has  the  entree  of  them. 
His  rooms  are  over  one  of  them.  One  is  next  door 
to  it. 


FIRST   YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  187 

TUESDAY,  NOVEMBER  16. 

We  investigated  the  President's  House  —  that  part 
of  it  which  is  open  to  investigation.  First  the  vesti 
bule,  which  is  a  large  entry  with  a  nowise  remarkable 
oil-cloth  carpet,  and  a  few  chairs,  and  the  general 
impression  conveyed  was  that  it  was  rather  dirty, 
though  I  don't  suppose  it  was.  Then  came  the 
famous  "East  Room,"  which  is  a  monstrous  one, 
long  and  not  very  narrow  —  a  red  and  yellow  pattern 
carpet,  plenty  of  big  looking  glasses  in  gilt  frames,  a 
few  tables,  gilt  and  brown  paper,  gold  and  dust  color, 
curtains  of  red  brocatelle  with  gilt  cornices,  chairs  of 
red  brocatelle,  and  that  is  about  all.  We  then  went 
severally  to  the  green  room,  the  blue  room,  and  the 
red  room,  which  rooms  are  so  distinguished  on 
account  of  their  color,  paper,  chairs,  carpet,  curtains, 
etc.,  being  severally  green,  red,  and  blue.  There 
was  nothing  remarkable — two  very  handsome  vases 
of  Sevres  china.  In  one  of  the  entrance  ways  were 
two  centre  tables  and  Mr.  Wood  said  to  the  porter, 
"  What  under  the  sun  does  the  President  have  those 
two  things  there  for?  It  looks  like  any  restaurant. 
I  should  think  Miss  Lane  would  have  better  taste." 
"  It  isn't  Miss  Lane,"  said  he;  "she  does  not  want 
them,  but  the  President  will  have  them."  There  is 
a  fine  view  of  the  Potomac  and  its  shores  from  the 
back  windows,  and  the  grounds  were  well  laid  out 
in  artificial  hills,  etc.,  — designed,  I  believe,  by  Mr. 
Adams  when  he  was  President.  There  is  also  an 
excellent  statue  of  Mr.  Jefferson  in  the  front  yard 
or  park,  only  the  bronze  was  defective  and  the  action 
of  the  weather  has  defaced  and  dilapidated  it. 

I  said  I  would  tell  you  of  Mr.  Richardson's  letter, 
did  I  ?  You  saw  in  Hartford  the  letter  he  wrote  sug:- 


188     UAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

gesting  to  me  a  correspondence.  Well,  I  wrote  to 
him  that  I  would  like  to  do  it  and  all  that,  but  I 
really  didn't  think  I  could  write  letters  worth  publish 
ing,  etc.,  etc.  He  wrote  back  to  me,  "  With  all  due 
deference  to  your  opinion,  /  think  you  can  write 
letters  from  Washington  worth  publishing  in  the  '  Con- 
gregationalist.' "  He  said  they  did  not  care  much  for 
letters  before  Congress  commenced,  but  would  like 
one  as  soon  as  I  pleased.  At  the  close  of  the  letter 
he  said,  "Don't  forget  that  you,  Miss  Mary  Ab by 
Dodge,  alias  '  Box,'  are  —  the  Washington  Cor 
respondent  of  the  '  Congregationalist.'  "  Well,  so  you 
see,  I  scratched  up  a  letter,  the  best  I  could,  and  sent 
it  on  with  considerable  misgiving.  I  got  a  letter  from 
him  this  morning  since  I  commenced  this,  saying, 
"  Anxious  to  relieve  you  from  the  dread  suspense 
you  may  be  in  as  to  the  fate  of  your  Washington 
letter,  I  write  a  line  to  say  that  although  it  was  left 
over  this  week  for  want  of  room,  it  will  appear  in  the 
'  Congregatioualist '  of  the  19th.,  Deo  volente.  We 
should  be  glad  to  receive  another  letter  from  you 
immediately  after  Congress  assembles."  So  I  sup 
pose  that  you  will  have  seen  that  letter  before  this 
one.  Now  don't  tell  any  one  I  wrote  it.  If  any  one 
asks  you,  you  can  say  —  well,  say  anything,  lie  like 
fury,  but  don't  say  I  wrote  it.  (I  believe  I  have  lost 
my  reputation  with  my  mother  and  sister,  so  I  shall 
say  anything  I  like  now.)  Understand  I  have  no 

v  */ 

idea  that  everybody  won't  find  out  to  a  dead  certainty 
that  I  wrote  it,  but  don't  you  tell  them.  To  the 
Ipswich  people  you  can  simply  say  that  I  don't  like 
to  have  you  talk  about  ray  literary  doings.  Don't 
distress  yourselves  unduly,  but  I  can  write  far  more 
freely  if  I  think  no  one  knows  the  author.  Your 


FIRST  YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  189 

remarks,  my  beloved  sister,  concerning  my  writing  so 
hurriedly  are  very  just  —  nevertheless  I  must  tell  you 
what  Mr.  R.  says  concerning  that  very  story.  "  I 
overlooked  your  article  —  'The  New  Scholars  '  till 
yesterday.  It  is  capital.  Could  you  write  a  book 
and  have  all  the  chapters  equal  to  that,  it  would  sell, 
and  what  is  more,  do  good."  Still  I  think  you  are 
quite  right.  As  a  general  thing  articles  written  so, 
however  good,  might  be  made  better  by  more  care. 
But  I  only  write  children's  stories  in  that  way.  On 
regular  grown-up  pieces  I  spend  a  great  deal  of  care 
and  time,  revise  and  correct  till  even  you  would  be 
satisfied.  Yes,  I  do  expect  to  meet  Burliugame  this 
winter,  and  everybody  else  of  any  note  in  the  Repub 
lican  party.  Very  likely  I  shall  not  speak  to  them, 
or  only  to  say  "  how  dy'e  do  ;  pretty  well,"  but  it  is 
something  to  look  at  them,  you  know.  I  forgot  to 
tell  you  that  I  went  over  the  bridge  across  the 
Potomac  last  Friday  morning  before  breakfast.  I 
started  from  home  about  half-past  six,  did  not  intend 
to  go  over,  but  after  finishing  my  walk  in  one  direc 
tion,  and  finding  it  was  not  time  to  go  home,  wandered 
along  till  I  came  to  the  bridge  and  thought  I  would 
go  on  a  little  way,  and  so  kept  going  till  I  got  clear 
across.  The  bridge  is  just  a  mile  long.  I  felt  rather 
skittish,  as  I  thought  it  was  so  far  that  if  any  one 
should  try  to  harm  me  it  would  be  of  no  use  to 
scream,  but  I  reflected  that  robbers  and  sich  like  were 
not  out  at  that  time  of  the  morning.  When  nearly 
across,  I  was  startled  to  see  a  man  rise  from  one  side 
of  the  bridge  —  he  proved,  however,  to  be  only  the  one 
who  had  the  care  of  the  draw.  I  made  his  acquain 
tance  and  he  gave  me  a  good  place  to  see  a  steamer 
which  was  towing  two  vessels  through.  He  was 


190    GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

greatly  struck  with  the  rapidity  of  my  walking,  said 
it  "  didn't  take  me  long  to  walk  a  mile." 

Mr.  Wood  is  not  engaged  in  any  business.  He  has 
a  trusteeship,  or  something  of  that  sort,  which  occupies 
him  about  four  weeks  in  the  year.  The  rest  of  his 
time  is  at  bis  own  disposal  —  and  mine  !  He  amuses 
himself  with  writing  books.  He  has  one  now  to  come 
out  in  a  few  weeks.  Won't  the  reviewers  get  hold  of 
it?  I  expect  they  will  tear  him  in  pieces  from  what 
he  has  told  me,  so  if  you  see  any  slashing  criticisms, 
you  need  not  therefore  suppose  that  Mr.  Wood  is 
annihilated. 

Last  night  Frank  came  upstairs  and  said  that, 
"  Pa  said  one  evening  of  seclusion  was  admissible, 
but  two  were  not  allowed  in  the  Old  Bailey."  I  did 
not  go  downstairs  the  evening  before,  and  it  was 
after  eight  o'clock  and  I  had  not  gone  then,  though 
I  was  intending  to  go  when  I  had  finished  writing. 
Our  waiter,  James,  has,  I  suppose,  been  married  this 
evening.  The  nurse,  a  black  girl  also,  was  dressed 
for  the  wedding  in  white  skirt  and  pink  silk  waist, 

and  wore  her  hair  in  long  curls.  A was  in  and 

spent  the  evening  last  night,  and  several  others.  I 
should  have  been  "  bored  to  death"  (I  put  quotations 
to  save  myself  from  swearing)  if  it  had  not  been  for 
Mr.  Wood,  and  I  tell  you  what,  he  is  a  jewel,  and  I 
am  going  to  knit  him  a  pair  of  stockings  for  a  Christ 
mas  present ;  but  don't  you  tell  him,  and  by  the  way, 
I  wish  you  not  to  speak  of  him,  or  at  least  casually, 
for  he  has  friends  and  relatives  all  around  you,  and 
what  I  say  ma}'  get  to  some  of  them  and  receive  a 
false  construction.  He  was  here  this  noon  for  me  to 
go  to  a  picture  gallery  with  him,  but  I  wanted  to  call 


FIRST   YEAR   IN  WASHINGTON  191 

on  the  Gallaudets,  and  so  excused  myself.  He  went 
part  way  over  there  with  me. 

I  am  now  writing  on  Thanksgiving  evening.  It  has 
been  a  very  cold,  dismal  day.  I  did  not  go  to  church. 
I  told  Mr.  Wood  I  supposed  I  must  go  to  church, 
but  I  did  not  wish  to  go,  as  I  wanted  to  stay  at  home 
and  write.  He  advised  me  by  all  means  to  stay  at 
home,  though  he  went  himself.  If  I  could  hear  one 
really  good  sermon,  such  as  Dr.  Bushuell  or  Mr.  Bur 
ton,  or  even  Mr.  Beadle  preaches,  I  would  go  at  any 
hour  of  the  day  or  night,  but  as  for  listening  on  week 
days  to  such  platitudes  as  I  have  generally  heard  here 
on  Sundays,  it  is  out  of  the  question. 

When  I  came  home  Marcel  came  upstairs  immedi 
ately,  brought  me  the  "  Congregationalist,"  your  letter, 
and  a  slip  of  paper,  which  proved  to  be  the  end  of  a 
letter  which  Dr.  B.  had  just  received  from  the  poet 
Whittier,  in  which  he  said,  "  Who  is  Gail  Hamilton? 
That  last  poem  was  a  very  fine  one.  Thine  truly, 
J.  G.  W."  Has  anybody  else  such  an  autograph  as 
that?  He  gave  me  another  also  on  which  was  written 
"  Extract  from  a  letter  of  Mr.  Whittier's  to  Dr.  G. 
Bailey.  Respectfully  presented  to  Miss  Mary  A. 
Dodge  by  her  devoted  admirer —  (at  a  distance  !)." 

DECEMBER  4. 

I  am  very  glad  Mr.  Gilman  has  got  a  place.  I  have 
felt  a  deal  interested  in  him.  I  hope  you  will  get 
somebody  to  take  care  of  your  soul  better  than  I  have 
here  to  look  after  mine.  I  hope  father  is  satisfied 
with  the  investment  of  my  money.  It  is  always  well 
to  have  some  one  to  look  after  our  pecuniary  inter 
ests,  and  who  so  well  fitted  as  he  who  is  by  nature 
our  nearest  relative,  wisest  friend,  and  most  experi- 


192     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

enced  counsellor?  I  expect  "Sir's "blue  eyes  will 
turn  up  at  this,  and  he  will  probably  inquire,  "  Do 
you  mean  me  ?  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  saw  the 
President  yesterday.  Mr.  Wood  pointed  him  out  to 
me  some  time  before  we  met,  so  that  I  put  up  my  veil 
and  took  a  good  squint.  He  is  tall  and  stout,  with  a 
very  white,  flabby  face,  and  something  peculiar  about 
one  of  his  eyes.  He  wore  black,  and  a  white  cravat, 
and  seems  old.  Saturday  evening  Mr.  Wood  brought 
over  a  couple  of  his  new  books  just  published,  and 
gave  one  to  me  and  one  to  the  Dr.  Mrs.  Bailey 
wanted  to  read  my  piece,  so  I  went  upstairs  and  got 
it,  and  she  read  it  aloud  amid  much  applause (  !)  while 
I  sat  behind  the  door.  Sunday,  as  we  were  eating 
dinner,  the  door-bell  rang,  and  soon  somebody  came 
flinging  along  the  hall,  and  the  children  cried,  "  Mr. 
Hale."  Sure  enough,  it  was  John  P.  himself.  After 
the  greetings  were  over,  he  was  given  a  seat  at  the 
table  at  my  right.  I  sat  next  the  Dr. ,  and  almost  as 
soon  as  he  was  seated  he  turned  to  me  and  said, 
''There  has  been  a  great  discussion  as  to  whether 
you  are  diffident  or  not.  Some  say  you  are,  and  some 
say  you  are  not.  Are  you  ?  "  I  was  quite  thrown  off 
my  balance,  for  I  had  not  supposed  he  would  have 
anything  in  particular  to  say  to  me.  I  muttered  some 
thing  about  his  being  able  to  find  out  himself,  but  the 
Dr.,  who  has  got  to  know  me  very  well,  turned  the 
subject.  Presently  Mr.  Hale  bounced  at  me  again  : 
"  Have  you  ever  been  in  Washington  before?"  No, 
sir.  "  Well,  you  must  not  judge  all  the  Senators 
from  me."  I  presume  I  might  do  worse,  sir.  An 
other  interlude.  "Where  do  you  come  from,  Miss 
Dodge?"  From  Massachusetts,  sir  (very  definite 
information).  From  Hamilton,  sir.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  know 


FIRST   YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  193 

about  there.  Near  Rowley,  is  it  not?"  Yes,  sir. 
Interlude  fourth  from  the  Baileys.  Bounce  the  fourth 
from  Hon.  John  P.  Hale :  "  This  is  a  very  nice  pud 
ding,  Mrs.  Bailey;  isn't  it,  Miss  Dodge?"  Miss  D. 
(solemnly),  Yes,  sir.  And  thus  ended  my  conversa 
tion  with  the  distinguished  Senator  from  New  Hamp 
shire.  Mr.  Wood  put  into  my  hand  a  note  which  he 
had  written  to  me  the  night  before,  saying,  "Before 
I  sleep  I  want  to  tell  you  that  your  'Essay  on  Men 
and  Women '  has  inspired  me  with  the  highest  admi 
ration  for  its  wit  and  eloquence,  the  fervid  eloquence 
of  deep  sympathy,  right  feeling,  and  earnest  and 
glowing  emotion,"  etc.  Monday  morning  at  break 
fast,  the  Dr.  said,  "  Miss  Mary,  Mr.  Hale  says  he 
hopes  the  next  time  he  comes  he  shall  not  frighten 
the  young  ladies."  At  twelve  o'clock  we  all  went  to 
Congress.  First  to  the  House  and  afterwards  to  the 
Senate.  In  the  evening  we  went  again  to  the  Stra- 
kosch  concert,  and  were  as  before  highly  entertained. 
1  saw  there  Lord  and  Lady  Napier,  Mr.  Seward  and 
daughter,  etc.  Wednesday,  when  I  was  going  down 
stairs  in  the  evening,  I  heard  voices  in  the  parlor  and 
waited  to  muster  courage.  Entering,  I  took  a  seat 
quietly,  and  was  presently  introduced  to  Rev.  Owen 
P.  Lovejoy,  member  of  Congress  from  Illinois.  Hon. 
Preston  King,  Senator  from  New  York,  and  Mr.  Col- 
fax,  Representative,  I  think,  were  also  there.  Mr. 
King  is  the  jolliest,  fattest,  best-natured  260  Ibs.  of 
flesh  that  you  ever  saw,  and  was  very  entertaining. 
Hon.  Joshua  Giddings  had  been  in,  but  left  before  I 
came  down.  Judge  Huntington  called  shortly  after 
wards,  just  as  the  others  were  about  to  leave,  and  I 
had  the  pleasantest  visit  I  have  ever  had  from  him. 
F—  -  told  me  yesterday  at  the  dinner  table  that  she 


194     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

met  Mr.  Hale  in  the  street,  and  he  stopped  her  and 

said,  "  F ,  what  made  Miss  Dodge  run  off  when 

I  was  there  ? "  She  told  him  I  was  very  shy,  etc. 
"  Ah,"  he  replied,  "  we'll  soon  tame  her  out  of  that, 
won't  we  ?  " 

When  I  entered  the  parlor  it  was  nearly  dusk,  but 
I  saw  enough  to  distinguish  Mr.  Hale  there  with  Dr. 
Bailey  and  drew  back.  They  both  saw  me,  however, 
and  called,  so  I  went  forward.  I  said  to  Mr.  Hale, 
"  You  need  not  try  to  frighten  me  again,  for  I  am  not 
going  to  be  scared.  Or  if  I  shall  be,  I  am  so  much 
more  afraid  of  the  Dr.  that  I  shall  endeavor  to  behave 
myself." 

Didn't  my  politics  look  splendidly  in  print?  I 
flatter  myself  that  was  particularly  well  done.  Do 
you  want  me  to  write  as  if  I  were  a  man,  or  shall  I 
let  the  cloven  foot  appear  in  case  it  should  be  incon 
venient  to  conceal  it?  (1  don't  mean  am  I  to  write  like 
the  —  —  but  like  a  woman  ?  I  am  afraid  you  will 
say  it  is  all  one  in  my  case).  If  you  had  not  told 
me  that  you  had  struck  out  some  expressions  in  my 
story,  I  should  not  have  known  it. 

There  was  an  editorial  which  I  liked  very  much 
several  weeks  ago  about  the  practical  effects  of  the 
revival.  I  wish  you  could  make  it  in  your  way  to 
harp  on  that  string  a  little  more.  I  think  the  great 
leak  in  our  ship  is  that  we  make  our  Christianity  too 
abstract.  We  don't  apply  it  enough,  "He  that 
sweeps  a  floor  as  to  God's  law,  makes  that  and  the 
action  fine."  I  think  the  writer  who  was  so  shocked 
last  week  by  the  "Autocrat's"  (?)  idea  of  the  man  who 
is  forever  "  haunted  by  a  sense  of  duty  "  has  mis 
conceived  that  idea  !  The  "Autocrat"  (if  it  was  the 


FIRST   YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  195 

"Autocrat")  did  not  mean,  I  take  it,  the  man  who 
acts  from  a  sense  of  duty,  but  he  who  is  continually 
obtruding  and  protruding  that  he  does,  who  is  always 
bringing  forward  duty  reasons  for  his  actions,  and 
supposing,  because  you  don't,  that  you  have  them 
not.  If  it  is  so,  I  entirely  agree  with  him.  I  think 
the  highest  character  is  his  who  is  so  accustomed  to 
think  and  act  right,  that  he  does  it  naturally,  as  it 
were,  by  sheer  force  of  habit.  Your  regular  duty 
people  are  the  most  stupid,  conceited,  and  disagree 
able  in  the  world.  As  a  general  fact,  people  who  are 
always  talking  about  doing  good,  do  the  least.  At 
any  rate,  that  is  my  opinion. 

TWELVE  O'CLOCK  A.M.,  December  1. 
The  first  day  of  winter,  very  pleasant  and  comfort 
able  weather,  and  as  we  had  winter  in  November,  we 
may  hope  for  our  Indian  summer  in  December.  I  went 
last  Saturday  to  the  publishing  office  of  the  "Era" 
to  get  a  paper  containing  the  verses  which  Whittier 
referred  to,  as  I  thought  you  might  like  to  see  them. 
It  was  my  first  visit  there,  and  I  took  little  Bell  as 
escort.  She  led  me  to  the  sanctum  and  I  asked  a 
man  there  for  the  papers,  whereon  Mr.  Goodlow 
jumped  up  from  some  hidden  place  and  came  for 
ward  and  introduced  to  me  a  Mr.  Pope,  and  then 
called  out  for  Mr.  Clepharn,  who  was  also  introduced, 
and  I,  not  knowing  how  far  the  thing  might  go, 

clutched  my  papers  and  came  off.     Mr.  W and 

I  walked  to  Mr.  Gallaudet's  in  the  morning.  As  we 
came  home  we  were  met  by  a  Mr.  De  Naise  (pro 
nounced  Nazy),  who  stopped  and  talked  awhile. 
His  mother  is  an  Italian,  his  father  a  Turk  or  a 
Frenchman  (!).  He  was  born  and  lived  in  Turkey 


196     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

and  was  our  Consul  at  Constantinople,  but  coming  to 
the  United  States  to  prosecute  a  claim  several  years 
ago,  he  liked  here  so  much  that  he  has  remained  ever 
since.  He  was  knighted  by  the  Sultan  and  is  conse 
quently,  Sir  De  Naise,  but  is  called  Mr.  He  is  a 
frequenter  of  the  "Old  Bailey,"  and  came  in  the 
evening.  He  has  just  returned  to  Washington  after 
an  absence  of  three  months.  He  is  very  ugly,  very 
droll,  and  very  good-natured.  I  did  not  intend  to  go 
downstairs  in  the  evening,  but  Dr.  sent  for  me  to 
come  down  and  take  a  hand  at  whist.  I  "  reckon," 
however,  the  reason  was  that  there  were  some  persons 
there  whom  he  wished  me  to  see.  The  visitors  were 
two  brothers  by  the  name  of  Alexander.  Their  father 
is  Scotch,  their  mother  Italian,  they  were  born  in 
France  and  live  in  America.  Their  ancestor,  in  the 
reign  of  James  I.  of  England,  nearly  three  hundred 
years  ago,  received  from  him  a  grant  of  nearly  all  the 
Canadas.  After  a  while  the  line  was  assumed  to  be 
extinct,  but  their  father  ascertaining  beyond  question 
that  he  was  the  real  heir  to  the  title  and  the  land, 
prosecuted  his  claim.  The  claim  was  so  great,  how 
ever,  and  involves  so  much  property,  that  a  charge  of 
fraud  and  forgery  was  trumped  up,  and  the  case  now 
lies  in  Parliament  :it  rest  for  want  of  the  necessary 
funds  on  the  part  of  the  prosecution.  The  older  of 
the  two  brothers  is  by  right  Lord  Sterling.  They  are 
in  some  office  under  government  and  support  their 
father  and  mother  here.  I  liked  them  both  very 
much,  especially  the  elder.  They  are  modest,  intelli 
gent,  and  well-bred. 

I  am  about  dragged  out.  My  eyes  and  head  feel 
the  effect  of  my  dissipation.  You  see  I  don't  get  to 
bed  much  before  twelve  o'clock.  People  don't  go 


FIRST  YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  197 

away  till  near  eleven,  and  we  almost  always  stay 
a  while  longer  to  talk  them  over.  Then  I  have  a  piece 
on  hand  that  I  want  to  finish  before  Congress  com 
mences,  so  that  I  may  not  be  worried  with  it  then.  I 
have  about  thirty-five  pages  of  it  finished,  and  shail 
perhaps  write  six  more.  I  did  not  suppose  it  could 
be  printed  just  yet,  as  there  are  now  two  stories  in 
course  of  publication  in  the  "  Era,"  but  I  asked  the 
Dr.  last  night  if  there  was  any  room  for  me,  and  he 
said  he  would  make  room.  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to 
finish  this  week.  Mr.  Welling  was  here  yesterday, 
and  spent  the  evening.  Mrs.  Bailey  said  we  "  boxed 
the  compass,"  beginning  with  poetry  and  ending  with 
theology,  which  was  quite  true.  By  the  way,  he  wants 
to  get  a  New  England  primer,  and  I  told  him  we  had 
them.  Mother,  I  wish  you  would  find  one  of  the  half 
dozen  that  used  to  be  lying  round  loose  and  send  it  to 
me.  I  should  prefer  the  one  that  has  the  devil  (  !) 
in  it  (of  course),  but  send  me  one  without,  if  you 
can't  find  that.  Augusta,  I  wish  you  would  see  if 
you  can  get  one  in  Boston.  He  will  probably  never 
think  of  it  again,  but  I  should  like  the  fun  of  sending 
it  to  him.  Did  you  recognize  any  portraits  in  my 
last  piece  in  the  "  Congregatioualist "  ?  Mother, 
don't  be  alarmed  at  what  I  said  about  my  head.  If 
I  can  get  two  nights'  sleep  consecutively,  I  shall  be 
as  good  as  new.  I  can  appreciate  your  anxiety  lest 
you  should  divulge  something  you  ought  not  at  Mrs. 

.     Dear  old  souls  !  If  it  was  not  for  that  awful 

inability  to  discern  what  ought  and  what  ought  not 
to  be  printed,  I  would  write  them  a  letter,  but  to  run 
the  risk  of  seeing  it  come  out  the  next  weok  in  the 
"  Congregationalist ! "  -I  believe  I  could  not  do 
that. 


198     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Saturday,  December  4.  I  have  concluded  I  may 
as  well  continue  my  veracious  history  up  to  the  pres 
ent  time.  I  want,  however,  to  assure  mother  that  the 
two  nights'  sleep  which  I  wanted  have  come,  and  I 
am  consequently  on  my  feet  again.  About  eight 
o'clock  Dr.  sent  up  for  me  to  send  down  as  much  of 
my  piece  as  was  written.  About  forty  pages  were 
written.  The  next  morning  at  breakfast  the  Dr.  said 
he  read  the  whole  of  my  piece  last  night,  which  was 
what  he  would  not  have  done  to  all  pieces  in  manu 
script,  and  that  Marcel  read  the  whole  of  it  too.  He 
wanted  me  to  take  it  and  divide  it  off  into  separate 
heads.  He  added  that  it  would  be  read,  that  1  had 
hit,  etc.  Mr.  W.  told  me  that  the  Dr.  spoke  to  them 
about  my  piece,  etc.,  and,  oh  dear,  I  ought  to  be 
blushing  terribly,  but  I  have  said  so  many  things 
before,  I  guess  this  won't  choke  me,  and  he  said 
that  they  had  never  had  any  one  in  their  house  be 
fore  equal  to  me!  ("La!")  and,  said  Mr.  Wood, 
"  Didn't  I  work  well  for  you  the  other  night?  I  knew 
that  Welling  was  impatient  to  talk  with  you,  and  I 
wheeled  the  Dr.  and  his  wife  round  to  backgammon, 
and  got  Marcel  to  the  piano,  and  gave  him  the  chance. 
The  consequence  was  that  when  he  carne  away  he  was 
all  enthusiasm,"  etc.,  etc.  I  suspected  Mr.  Wood  of 
such  a  design,  and  Mr.  Welling  wheeled  round  to  me 
so  quickly  when  the  others  moved  off,  that  I  did  not 
know  but  that  they  had  put  their  heads  together  be 
forehand,  but  Mr.  Wood  assured  me  that  he  did  not 
know  he  was  coming.  Oh  dear,  Augusta,  I  wish  I 
could  get  at  you  to  have  one  good  laugh  behind  the 
scenes.  Nobody  here,  you  see,  suspects  the  by-play 
that  is  going  on  between  you  and  me.  It  would  be 


FIRST   YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  199 

such  a  relief    to    have  somebody  who  knows  what  a 
"  humbug  "  I  am. 

After  breakfast.  I  have  just  finished  reading  your 
letter.  I  am  not  going  to  answer  it  now,  besides  my 
hand  trembles  so  with  laughing  that  it  is  a  great  ex 
ertion  to  write. 

DECEMBER  5. 

Mrs.  Pike,  who  is  here,  is  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Fred 
erick  Pike,  the  author  of  "  Ida  May,"  "  Caste,"  etc. 
Perhaps  you  remember  hearing  about  the  books. 
They  made  something  of  a  sensation  and  she  made 
something  of  a  fortune  —  some  five  or  six  thousand 
dollars  by  the  first  one,  "  Ida  May."  Mr.  Goodlow 
spent  the  evening  here  yesterday.  After  we  had 
finished  cards,  the  party  drew  back  and  Mr.  Gr.  came 
and  sat  between  Mrs.  Bailey  and  me  and,  after  talk 
ing  politics  awhile,  began  to  speak  of  a  very  interest 
ing  essay  which  he  had  be^n  reading  in  the  '•  Era,"  and 
wondered  whether  it  was  taken  from  the  author's  own 
experience,  or  from  an  imaginary  character  simply. 
I  replied  very  coolly,  that  the  name  "  Gail  Hamilton" 
seemed  like  a  man's,  but  at  any  rate,  it  was  generally 
supposed  and  taken  for  granted  that  writers  speaking 
in  the  first  person  were  only  imaginary,  and  under 
that  cover  they  could  put  in  as  much  autobiography 
as  they  chose  and  nobody  be  the  wiser.  He  said  that 
he  had  always  had  a  kind  of  idea  that  women  generally 
would  rather  be  men  than  women  —  whereat  I  assured 
him  that  I  wished  I  knew  him  well  enough  to  box  his 
ears,  and  he  declared  that  he  would  waive  dignity  and 
give  me  full  liberty  to  do  so  if  it  would  give  me  any  pleas 
ure,  and  I  affirmed  that  it  would  give  me  great  pleasure, 
in  fact  I  couldn't  think  of  anything  at  that  moment 
that  would  give  me  more,  but  I  didn't.  I  have  for- 


200     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

gotten  what  led  to  it,  but  I  gave  Mrs.  B.  a  ridiculous 
account  of  the  way  in  which  I  collared  him  and  brought 
him  home  with  me  from  the  office  the  other  clay,  and 
after  the  laugh  was  over,  he  explained  how  I  came  in 
upon  him  in  an  old  office  coat  which  was  split  across 
the  back  from  arm  to  arm,  and  how  in  shewing  me 
round  he  had  to  wheel  and  turn  to  keep  the  rent  out 
of  sight,  and  how  they  laughed  about  it  after  I  was 
gone,  and  altogether  we  had  considerable  fun. 

Yesterday  morning  I  went  to  walk  before  breakfast. 
After  dinner,  the  disgust  which  has  long  been  gather 
ing  for  the  pointed  waist  of  my  new  blue  thibet  dress 
came  to  a  head,  and  I  suddenly  seized  a  pair  of  scis 
sors  and  nipped  them  all  off  and  feel  as  if  I  had  a 
new  dress. 

Copy  of  a  request  to  Mrs.  B.  that   she   would   make 

bows  for  my  sleeves. 
There's  an  exquisite  blush  on  my  beautiful  cheek, 

And  my  modesty,  startled,  can  scarcely  speak 
To  tell  Mrs.  Bailey  the  thing  I  seek 
And  wish  for  most,  as  matters  go, 
And  beg  for  with  all  the  power  I  know, 
Is  a  handsome,  elegant,  rib-and-beau. 

DECEMBER   13,   1858. 

The  family  taken  together  is  perhaps  one  in  a 
hundred.  The  children  particularly  well  governed. 
Mrs.  Bailey  is  a  superior  woman  and  very  companion 
able.  Both  are  agreeable,  unusually  sensible,  and 
appreciate  me  fully  so  far  as  I  can  judge.  I  mean 
every  attention  and  respect  is  paid  me,  yet  so  unob 
trusively  that  I  never  notice  it  particularly.  People 
of  mark  and  sense,  one  way  or  another,  are  in  almost 
every  evening  —  chiefly  members  of  Congress.  I  have 


FIRST  YEAR   IX   WASHINGTON  201 

sec  a  two  or  three  lord;;  and  played  whist  with  a  Sir 
who  was  once  our  consul  at  Constantinople,  and  wore 
a  splendid  diamond  ring  given  him  by  the  Sultan.  He 
is  very  droll,  polite,  and  good-natured. 

Going  to  church  here  is  by  no  means  so  pleasant  as 
in  Hartford.  So  far  as  my  observation  goes  the 
clergy  here  are  inferior.  Don't  let  us  quarrel  with 
our  fates,  Alice.  I  have  done  more  at  that  business 
than  you  and  have  not  got  over  it  yet.  The  years  in 
this  world  are  but  "  few  and  evil" — at  least  my 
good  has  been  so  diluted  with  evil  that  I  find  my 
chief,  perhaps  my  only  real  pleasure  in  looking  for 
ward  to  the  world  where  sorrow  can  find  no  entrance. 
I  think  the  "  Atlantic  "  the  best  monthly  that  has  ever 
been  published  in  this  country,  and  the  lt  Autocrat's  " 
by  far  the  finest  series  of  papers  of  the  kind,  though 
there  are  occasional  objections  to  his  mode  of  alluding 
to  theological  opinions  which,  whether  true  or  false, 
are  cherished  by  a  large  portion  of  his  readers,  as  he 
must  very  well  know. 

DECEMBER  14. 

I  went  to  the  State  Department  and  saw  busts  of 
Josephine  and  Napoleon,  by  Cauova,  brought  to  Vera 
Cruz  by  the  Prince  de  Joinville,  son  of  Louis  Philippe, 
the  last  King  of  France  and  thence  here  by  our  con 
sul.  I  spent  most  of  the  time  after  dinner  till  even 
ing  trying  to  remember  or  recall  the  stitch  with  which 
I  knit  my  Polish  boots  last  winter,  but  without  suc 
cess.  Mr.  De  Naise  was  in  in  the  evening  and 
amused  us  again  with  his  droll  ways  and  his  French 
English.  Did  I  tell  3-011  that  he  once  challenged 
Douglas?  After  I  went  upstairs  I  again  tried  my 
hand  at  the  stitch  and  by  ravelling  out  some  of  my 
last  winter's  work,  I  at  length  succeeded.  I  am  go- 


202     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

ing  to  knit  a  pair  to  give  to  Mrs.  B.  at  Christinas  if  I 
can.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  L.  K.  Lippincott  have  just  pub 
lished  a  children's  book,  consisting  of  stories  by  both 
of  them,  which  they  sent  to  me  through  the  post-office. 
It  is  very  pretty.  It  is  rainy  and  foggy  again  this 
morning,  and  the  Sunny  South  has  turned  into  a  most 
cloudy  and  dismal  one.  Everbody  is  afflicted  with 
influenza.  I  received  your  letter  yesterday.  I  have 
had  it  in  ray  mind  to  tell  Grace  about  J's  unsuccess 
ful  attempt  to  obtain  subscribers  for  the  "  Little  Pil 
grim,"  but  finally  concluded  that  I  would  not  divulge 
the  meanness  of  Massachusetts  people.  I  am  really 
ashamed  of  them.  A  paper  that  costs  only  fifty  cents 
a  year  !  I  am  afraid  J.  will  never  be  induced  to  under 
take  the  promotion  of  intelligence  again.  "  Terra 
Incognita "  was  the  piece  Whittier  spoke  of.  I 
thought  I  sent  it  to  you  long  ago  till  the  other  day  I 
found  the  paper  lying  on  my  table.  I  will  send  it  to 
you  in  this  letter  if  I  don't  forget.  I  have  finished 
Mr.  Wood's  stockings.  Do  you  want  to  see  the  note 
I  am  going  to  send  with  them  ?  — 

Let  not  thy  heart,  O  noble  friend, 

My  humble  gift  despise, 
But  may  the  simple  offering 

Find  favor  in  thine  eyes. 
I  know  that  with  the  shining  ones 

Thy  genial  home  is  found, 
But  though  thy  head  may  knock  the  stars, 

Thy  feet  must  touch  the  ground. 
Dream  on,  then,  of  those  happy  realms 

Above  our  world  of  strife  — 
And  give  us  foretastes  of  the  joys 

That  gild  the  "  Future  Life." 
But  lesser  crowns  for  lesser  brows  — 

/  count  not  Fate  remiss, 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON  203 

If  she  but  grant  my  grateful  hands 
To  guard  thy  feet  in  this. 

Won't  he  be  tickled  ?  Mr.  Richardson  wishes  very 
much  to  have  my  signature,  Gail  Hamilton,  attached 
to  my  letters.  I  wish  very  much  that  it  should  not 
be,  and  I  don't  think  I  shall  have  it.  I  might  as  well 
write  Abby  Dodge  and  be  done  with  it.  He  wants 
me  also  to  write  a  New  Year's  story  for  them,  which 
I  shall  endeavor  to  do.  I  have  purchased  and  sent  a 
copy  of  "Future  Life"  to  Alvin.  A  Mr.  Bamngras, 
an  artist  and  a  foreigner,  and  a  very  pleasant,  simple 
and  agreeable  man,  was  with  us  last  evening.  To-day 
is  pleasant  again.  I  went  out  this  noon  to  take  a 
walk,  was  overtaken  by  Mr.  W.  Mr.  H.  dined  here 
and  we  got  along  very  well.  He  asked  me  if  I  would 
like  to  take  a  walk  and  I  said  I  would  and  we  walked 
an  hour  and  a  half.  As  we  were  coming  home,  a 
great,  dirty  pig  ran  against  Mr.  H's  legs  and  knocked 
him  down  flat  on  the  pavement  before  me  on  his  back. 
It  was  the  most  ridiculous  thing  I  ever  saw.  Y"ou 
know  he  is  pretty  large  and  fat,  and  his  heels  kicked 
up,  and  his  look  of  surprise  as  he  lay  there,  was  per 
fectly  irresistible.  The  reason  why  this  writing  is  so 
irregular  is  because  I  laugh  so  uncontrollably  when 
ever  I  think  of  it.  I  never  had  such  pain  to  keep 
from  laughing  in  my  life  as  I  did  then.  It  seemed 
to  me  as  if  I  should  suffocate.  Now  don't  tell  any 
one  of  this,  by  any  means.  I  have  not  mentioned 
it  here.  I  have  begun  to  read  the  Bible  through  again. 
Don't  you  want  to  begin,  too,  reading  a  chapter  a 
day?  You  and  mother  too.  1  have  got  to  the  thirt 
ieth  chapter  of  Genesis.  Hoping  to  hear  from  }rou 
soon, 

Yours  affectionately. 


204     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

JANUARY  10,   1859. 

Mr.  Hale  has  just  left.  He  came  to  town  last 
night,  called  here  an  hour  or  so  ago,  and  sent  up  for 
me  particularly.  He  said  he  had  a  good  homely 
message  for  me,  which  was  that  two  pretty  young 
ladies  in  New  Hampshire  said  that  they  loved  me. 
The  two  young  ladies  proved  to  be  Lizzy  Hale,  his 
daughter,  and  Lydia  Low,  a  young  lady  who  was  at 
Miss  Crocker's  when  I  was  there.  So  I  told  him  that 
I  had  something  to  tell  him,  which  was  that  my  sister 
told  me  that  if  Mr.  Hale  was  as  pleasant  in  a  parlor 
as  he  was  on  a  lake  steamer  in  an  old  Kossuth  hat, 
I  couldn't  help  liking  him.  Of  course  he  was  curi 
ous  to  know  who  my  sister  was,  and  I  explained. 
He  remembered  her  perfectly,  was  greatly  pleased, 
spoke  of  her  very  highly,  asked  a  great  many  ques 
tions  about  her  and  Alvin  and  the  family,  recurring 
to  it  several  times  after  other  subjects  had  been 
brought  up,  and  finally  asked  to  send  a  note  in  my 
letter  when  I  wrote  to  her.  By  and  by  he  asked  if  I 
wanted  to  go  to  walk  again.  Of  course  I  said  yes, 
and  he  said  he  would  come  down  to-morrow  after  din 
ner  for  me.  Then  he  began  to  say  something  about 
the  pig,  but  I  interrupted  him — "Oh,  Mr.  Hale,  why 
do  you  mention  that?  I  never  told  of  it."  "Didn't 
you?"  said  he,  "Why,  you  are  a  remarkable  girl — 
then  I  won't."  Of  course  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Bailey  were 
on  tip-toe  to  know  what  it  was,  and  guessed  all  man 
ner  of  things,  but  we  would  not  tell.  I  think  he  was 
really  glad  that  I  had  not  told  of  it.  He  said  there 
wasn't  another  woman  in  the  city  that  would  have 
done  so.  I  had  a  letter  this  morning  from  Mr.  Rich 
ardson,  enclosing  five  dollars  "beyond  the  stipulated 
price,  as  a  slight  evidence  that  we  are  pleased  with 


FIRST   YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  205 

your  communications  and  desire  their  continuance. 
We  are  at  present  quite  short  of  articles  for  the  chil 
dren's  column  and  should  be  glad  to  receive  something 
from  you  in  this  line,  as  well  as  articles  for  our  first 
page,  from  time  to  time.  If  you  are  moved  to  write 
poems  of  considerable  length,  adapted  to  our  columns, 
and  they  are  as  good  as  the  last,  we  shall  be  very 
glad  to  publish  them  and  afford  you  such  compensa 
tion  as  you  may  think  proper."  Well,  what  horn  shall 
I  blow  next?  Miss  Ella  Kirby  sent  up  her  album  to 
me  last  night  with  a  request  that  I  would  write  in  it 
"•  something  sweet  and  pretty,  just  like  myself,"  so  I 
wrote  : 

A  clam  to  your  flounces  tenaciously  clinging, 

The  bell  of  the  milkman,  his  matinals  ringing, 

A  cabbage  upreared  by  your  lilies  and  roses, 

A  hand  'neath  the  hinge  of  the  door  when  it  closes, 

The  dragon  of  Wantley,  whose  tastes  architectural 

Make  us  fancy  the  talc  was  extremely  conjectural, 

A  pony  descended  from  old  Rosinante, 

The  sun-flowers  in  front  of  an  Irishman's  shanty, 

A  talker  who  makes  the  chief  part  of  his  role  "  Oh  ! " 

A  donkey  who  brays  a  duet  to  your  solo, 

A  needle  thrust  under  your  delicate  nail, 

An  epic  by  Blackmore  —  the  Knights  of  tlie  Grail, 

The  gravy  upset  on  your  lavender  silk, 

The  salt  in  your  coffee,  your  sleeve  in  the  milk, 

A  small  boy  in  the  parlor  entirely  de  trop 

(  How  many  there  should  be  you  very  well  know), 

I  give,  since  you  asked  me,  you  mischievous  elf, 

For  "  something  sweet  and  pretty,  just  like  myself,'1'1 

That  "tarnation"  Wood  hasn't  come  yet,  and  I 
don't  know  what  has  become  of  the  fellow.  I  am 
afraid  he  is  sick,  poor  dear! 

Thursday,  18.     Mr.  Wood  came  in  due  time  and 


206     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

we  called  at  Mrs.  Gale's  and  took  her  and  her  sister 
along  with  us  to  the  picture  gallery.  Saw  a  collection 
of  very  fine  pictures.  Met  Mr.  Baumgras  and  his 
wife  and  had  a  long  conversation  with  him  on  art  and 
artists,  told  him  I  was  no  connoisseur  in  paintings. 
But,  "ah,  I  know  you  have  the  power  to  paint  wiz 
ze  pen." 

WASHINGTON,  D.C.,  January  10,  1859. 
MY  DEAR  SIR  MENTOR  :  I  should  have  answered 
your  letter  before  but  for  several  reasons.  One  is 
that  I  did  not  know  exactly  what  to  say,  and  so 
waited  vaguely  for  something  to  turn  up.  (You  need 
not  suppose  anything  has  turned  up  from  my  writing 
now.)  Another  reason  was  that  I  have  been  so 
exceedingly  busy  with  professional,  literary,  and 
social  duties  that  I  have  really  had  no  time.  I  am 
sure  I  had  not  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  giving  up 
teaching  till  YOU  poked  the  idea  into  me.  I  mean  I 
had  not  thought  of  it  definitely,  lately.  I  supposed, 
and  still  suppose,  that  my  fate,  which  is  another  name 
for  will,  is  to  teach  through  the  remainder  of  my 
natural  life,  or  through  so  much  of  it  as  can  be  made 
available  for  educational  purposes.  As  to  my  being 
bewildered,  you  need  have  no  fear  of  it,  not  the  slight 
est.  I  see  very  clearly  the  path  that  lies  before,  and 
though  the  mist  that  surrounds  me  now  is  rose-tinted 
and  golden,  and  the  flowers  very  fragrant,  and  the 
air  charming,  they  do  not  hide  from  me  the  fact  that 
my  way  lies  over  the  hill  Difficulty  into  the  Promised 
Land  —  if  indeed  I  ever  reach  that  Happy  Land.  I 
think  if  a  person  has  a  strong  native  inclination  for, 
and  facility  in,  any  one  profession  or  employment,  it 
is  an  indication  that  that  ought  to  be  his  employment. 


FIRST   YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  207 

If  a  boy  evinces  skill  in  chiselling,  make  him  a  sculp 
tor —  iu  colors,  make  him  a  painter  —  in  tools,  make 
him  a  machinist.  Now,  in  this  particular  respect, 
you  very  well  know  the  strength  of  my  desire  for 
writing  and  my  love  of  it.  As  to  my  ability,  I  have 
never  pretended  to  be  myself  the  judge,  but  throwing 
out  of  view  nil  the  facts  of  my  previous  life,  I  have 
i*eceived  encouragement  enough  since  I  have  been 
here  to  lift  up  the  most  downcast.  I  do  not  say  this 
by  way  of  boasting,  but  to  give  you  facts,  to  show 
you  that  I  do  not  act  without  random,  basis  I  meant 
to  say.  Different  persons  —  persons  who  have  no 
reason  to  be  interested  in  me,  who  have  never  seen 
me  before,  of  their  own  accord  have  conspired  or 
combined  to  make  me  feel  that  I  have  not  written 
without  success.  Two  gentlemen,  one  of  them  a  two 
years'  resident  in  Europe,  in  the  diplomatic  corps  (  a 
cliargd  I  believe),  who  were  entire  strangers  to  me  till 
within  a  few  months,  have  proposed  to  me  subjects 
which  they  wish  me  to  make  into  books  —  the  latter 
gentleman  with  great  earnestness,  with  repeated  prom 
ises  of  his  own  assistance  in  furnishing  material,  and 
an  assurance  drawn  from  my  past  writings,  of  entire 
success.  From  various  and  unexpected  quarters  I 
have  received,  sometimes  directly,  sometimes  indi 
rectly,  the  most  cordial  and  hearty  appreciation, 
seeming  to  me,  occasionally,  almost  to  amount  to 
extravagance.  /  certainly  never  set  so  high  a  value 
on  any  of  my  writings  as  have  some  of  those  to  whom 
I  refer.  I  do  not  think,  therefore,  that  I  am  unduly 
presumptuous  in  assuming  that  I  have  a  degree  of 
facility  in  writing  which,  so  far  as  it  alone  is  con 
cerned,  would  warrant  me  in  adopting  that  as  a 
profession. 


208     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IX   LETTERS 

Here,  of  course,  comes  iii  the  question  of  doing 
good.  Now  I  think  a  person  can  do  the  most  good 
by  that  which  he  can  do  best,  as  a  general  thing. 
That  is,  a  good  shoemaker  does  more  good  than  a 
poor  minister,  a  man  who  ought  to  have  been  a  shoe 
maker  but  was  not.  I  utterly  deny  that  a  teacher 
can  (even  probably)  do  more  good  than  a  writer. 
Think  of  the  value  to  the  world  of  such  little  waifs  as 
the  "  Dairyman's  Daughter"  — think  also  of  Baxter's 
and  Payson's  works  —  of  John  Foster  and  Bunyau. 
Don't  suppose  I  mean  to  class  myself  with  them.  I 
am  speaking  now  of  writings  of  which  I  understood 
you  also  to  speak.  Think  of  Mrs.  Stowe,  of  Char 
lotte  Bronte,  of  Mrs.  Gaskell  —  and  who  - 

I  just  want  to  tell  you  that  you're  mistaken  about 
my  friendships.  I  have  a  great  many  friends,  that's 
true,  but  I  have  very  few  internal  friends,  people 
whom  I'd  rather  be  with  than  be  alone.  I  like  many, 
and  I  talk  and  laugh  \vith  many,  but  I  love  very,  very 
few,  I  mean  with  a  real,  warm,  necessary  love. 

Thursday  I  went  to  Congress  alone.  Mrs.  Gooch 
saw  me  in  the  gallery  and  sent  the  door-keeper  over 
to  have  me  sit  with  her  and  Miss  Buffinton.  Mr. 
Colfax  came  up  from  the  floor  and  sat  and  talked 
awhile.  Mr.  Burlingame  came  forward  to  go  home 

O  D 

with  me,  but  "yielded  the  floor"  to  Mr.  Love- 
joy.  I  pray  every  Sunday  (in  the  Episcopal  Church) 
for  "women  in  the  perils  of  childbirth"  —and  I 
think  if  there  is  anything  that  ought  to  be  prayed 
about  steady,  it's  that.  I  bought  a  bonnet  —  green 
velvet,  white  feather  —  price  ten  dollars,  and  had 
one  cent  left.  Mrs.  Gooch  sent  me  a  note  to  go 
to  Congress  with  her,  but  I  was  out  when  it  came 
and  so  went  alone.  Met  the  Gallaudets  in  the 


FIRST   YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  209 

gallery.  By  the  way,  they  had  called  on  me  the 
day  before.  Mr.  Gooch  also  came  up  to  see  me, 
also  Judge  Trumbull,  Senator,  and  we  had  a  pleasant 
little  talk.  In  the  evening  Mr.  Alley,  oxr  repre 
sentative  from  Lynn,  called.  I  liked  him  very  much, 
a  little  slow,  but  sound  and  gentlemanly.  By  the 
way,  mother,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Dr.  Hall  is  a 
friend  of  Mr.  Wood's,  who  has  a  suite  of  rooms  in  the 
same  building  with  him,  is  one  of  my  admirers  in  a 
mild  way  —  a  bachelor  —  income  of  five  thousand 
dollars  a  year,  highly  educated,  literary,  but  uses 
tobacco  rather  obviously,  that  is  the  worst  thing  I 
know  about  him,  is  a  little  given  to  melancholy.  I 
like  him  very  well.  Monday  I  had  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Richardson  containing  last  quarter's  "pay"  —  told 
me  I  was  writing  more  than  I  got  paid  for,  which  is 
better  than  if  it  had  been  the  other  way,  you  know. 
Also,  by  express,  a  beautiful  worsted  shawl  from 
Ellen  Hunt  which  she  had  knit  herself.  Mr.  Wood 
went  to  the  House  with  me  —  afterwards  I  did  a  little 
shopping  and  being  afraid  the  Republican  party  would 
leave  Sherman,  went  home  and  wrote  a  note  to  the 
Massachusetts  delegation  exhorting  them  to  stand  by 
their  guns  —  quoted  the  ancients  and  modern,  told 
them  if  they  were  afraid,  to  come  to  me,  I  would  pro 
tect  them  —  to  die  bravely  if  die  they  must,  and  that 
Massachusetts  would  strew  their  graves  with  flowers, 
signed  myself  "  Your  affectionate  Grandmother,"  and 
sent  it  to  the  four  at  the  corner  of  the  street,  Buffin- 
ton,  Dawes,  Gooch,  and  Alley.  An  answer  came 
back  in  an  hour  or  so  in  which  they  begged  to  assure 
their  grandmother  that  Massachusetts  men  fought  to 
the  last.  Fine  fun.  Don't  I  make 'em  laugh?  Judge 
Huutingtou  called  and  spent  the  evening,  had  a  nice 


210     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

time.  He  likes  to  come  and  see  me,  and  I  like  to  talk 
heresies  and  schisms  and  shock  his  High  Church  no 
tions.  Tuesday  Mr.  Dexter  sent  me  a  copy  of  Hunting- 
ton's  sermons.  I  didn't  tell  you  that  he  sent  me  Stan- 
King's  "White  Hills  "  for  a  New  Year's  present.  Don't 
talk  of  these  things  about.  I  don't  like  boasting  of 
"great  folks."  At  night  I  went  to  a  prayer-meeting 
for  the  world's  conversion,  with  Mr.  Wood.  Horrid 
time.  Scrambled  all  about  Robin  Hood's  barn  and 
never  said  a  word  about  the  heathen.  I  don't  think 
they  take  prayer-meetings  "  the  natural  way  "  down 
here.  Got  there  at  half-past  seven  and  didn't  get 
home  till  half-past  ten.  Waited  an  hour  before  they 
begun  and  when  they  got  a-going  seemed  as  if  they 
would  never  stop.  I  told  Mr.  Wood  that  as  for  going 
to  Congress  all  day  and  prayer-meeting  all  night,  I 
wasn't  going  to  do  it.  Wednesday  Mr.  Welling  came 
to  see  me  in  the  morning,  stayed  an  hour  and  a  half 
or  so.  Mr.  Seward  and  Mrs.  Frederick  S.  were  here 
when  he  came,  but  they  went  away  soon.  He  told 
me,  to  prove  his  courage,  that  he  had  gone  down  to 
Virginia  with  two  "  National  Eras"  in  his  pocket  and 
read  my  poem  to  the  people  down  there.  In  the 
House  a  woman  interested  herself  in  me,  asked  me  if 
I  was  visiting  here.  I  told  her  not  exactly,  I  was 
making  myself  useful  in  a  general  way.  I  presume  she 
thinks  I  am  maid-of-all-work  somewhere.  Mr.  Curtis' 
health  is  better  than  it  was,  but  he  says  he  has  very 
little  confidence  in  it.  He  wants  to  know  if  there  are 
any  conditions  on  which  I  would  probably  be  willing 
and  feel  at  liberty  to  return  in  the  spring.  He  thinks 
those  two  verse-letters  are  one  of  the  most  faultless 
and  successful  efforts  I  ever  made.  Mr.  Richardson 
defended  himself  against  a  scold  I  gave  him  for  put- 


FIRST   YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  211 

ting  a  notice  of  me  into  the  last  "  S.  &  S."  Said  the 
editor,  Mr.  Adams,  did  it,  and  he  didn't  know  —  that 
Mr.  A.  was  in  the  office  just  then  and  sent  his  com 
pliments  to  me  and  said  he  would  settle  the  matter 
with  me,  so  I  told  Mr.  R.  to  transfer  my  wrath  to 
Mr.  A.  with  compound  interest.  He  sent  me  several 
pictures  to  illustrate  if  I  liked,  and  I  do  like  — also  a 
couple  of  notices.  The  "  Transcript"  one  was  to  show 
me  that  I  was  known,  so  it  was  no  use  trying  to  keep 
it  secret.  It  happens  that  Mr.  Wood  wrote  it,  for 
which  I  could  have  torn  his  —  pen  out,  but  I  didn't 
say  anything  —  no  use  —  I  am  afraid  this  letter  is 
scarcely  more  coherent  than  the  last,  but  I  have  been 
writing  this  whole  day  long  almost,  and  I  can  only 
jerk  now.  Mother,  what  has  become  of  the  kitten  ? 
Good-night. 

JANUARY  15. 

MY  DEARS  :  I  have  had  such  a  splendid  time  this 
evening  that  I  want  to  tell  you  about  it  before  I  for 
get  it.  It  is  twenty  minutes  past  eleven,  but  I  can 
write  till  Sunday.  I  must  begin  with  the  morning, 
however.  I  received  your  letter,  sent  one  to  Mr. 
Richardson,  then  went  down  to  the  Dr.'s  room  to  ask 
him  something,  knocked,  poked  my  head  in,  saw  a 
stranger  there,  did  my  errand,  and  was  coming  back 
when  he  told  me  to  come  in.  "  Oh,  no,  sir,  that  was 
all  I  wanted."  "Yes,  yes,  come  in,  we  want  you." 
Went  in  and  was  introduced  to  Dr.  Elder,  of  Phila 
delphia,  who  wrote  the  "  Life  of  Dr.  Kane."  He  and 
his  daughter  are  spending  a  week  or  so  here  at  the 
"  National."  Before  he  went  awa}T  he  came  up  to  me 
and  said:  '-Well,  we  are  mutually  satisfied,  are  we 
not  ?  "  I  replied  that  I  could  only  answer  for  one. 


212     (JAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

"Ah!  that  is  enough,  that  finishes  th;>  business." 
They  were  invited  hero  this  evening.  Do  you  want 
to  know  how  I  was  dressed  ?  Green  silk,  low  neck 
and  short  sleeves,  lace  cape,  rose-colored  bow,  belt, 
white  lace  cuffs  with  rose-colored  bows,  light-colored 
kid  gloves,  fan  and  handkerchief,  that's  all.  Never 
looked  better  in  my  life,  vain  —  I  suppose — never 
did  —  everybody  said  so.  .Mrs.  Pratt  said  I  was 
dressed  beautifully,  looked  so  clean.  Mrs.  Pike  came 
to  me  in  the  course  of  the  evening  and  said  she  wanted 
to  tell  me  how  sweetly  I  looked.  We  were  all  in  the 
parlor  waiting,  and  Mr.  Hale  came  first  and  shook 
hands  with  us  all  and  said  to  me  before  he  got  to  me 
"  Why,  how  beautiful  you  look."  Now,  mother,  I 
don't  suppose  Mr.  Hale  meant  to  say  or  thought  I  was 
beautiful,  but  I  think  he  was  really  surprised  to  find 
so  homely  a  girl  could  look  so  well.  At  any  rate,  the 
consciousness  of  being  well  dressed  contributed  partly 
to  the  pleasure  of  the  evening.  A  "lot"  of  people 
came  in  together,  none  of  whom  I  knew,  but  one  of 
the  women  presently  came  up  to  me  and  said  she 
should  not  wait  for  an  introduction,  as  she  knew  my 
face  and  who  I  was.  She  proved  to  be  Mrs.  Wash- 
burn,  of  Hartford,  wife  of  Judge  H's  minister,  and 
is  visiting  her  mother  here.  We  talked  on  some  time 
in  the  middle  of  the  room  till  Mr.  Hale  inarched  be 
tween  us  and  said  we  should  not  talk  together  any 
longer,  it  was  not  fair.  Then  Mr.  Preston  King  en 
tered  the  room  and  came  near  us  and  shook  hands, 
and  I  told  him  to  stay  and  see  me  a  little  while.  He 
is  too  fat  to  stand,  so  he  settled  into  an  arm-chair  at 
my  side,  and  I  stood,  and  we  had  a  charming  little 
conversation.  He  is  so  easy  and  sensible  and  good 
withal,  that  I  am  quite  in  love  with  him.  We  talked 


FIRST   YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  213 

about  health,  and  drinking  coffee,  and  being  good- 
natured,  etc.,  and  found  that  our  views  coincided  ex 
actly  and  so  we  glorified  each  other  grandly.  Oh, 
before  that,  I  found  myself  next  to  a  gentleman  whom 
I  thought  and  called  Dr.  Lindsley,  the  family  physi 
cian,  but  he  proved  to  be  his  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Peter 
Parker,  our  Commissioner  to  China  ;  has  lived  there 
for  twenty-five  years.  You  may  tell  Mrs.  Cowles  if 
you  like  that  I  spent  the  evening  with  Dr.  P.  Parker 
and  talked  about  the  Hcards,  and  I  tried  to  lug  her  in, 
but  couldn't  get  him  on  the  trail.  Dr.  Elder  and  his 
daughter  came  in  together  and  after  a  while  he  came 
up  to  me  and  said  he  should  have  lauded  there  sooner 
if  he  had  not  been  dragged  away.  I  had  a  very  inter 
esting  conversation  with  him,  part  funny,  part  earnest, 
about  Dr.  Kane,  and  presently  saw  Miss  Elder  coming 
up  to  be  introduced  on  one  side  and  Miss  Mott  witli 
Mr.  Wilson  on  the  other,  and  as  I  did  not  know 
which  way  to  turn  first  I  looked  straight  ahead.  (You 
may  think  my  power  of  vision  very  remarkable  —  to 
be  able  to  see  five  different  persons  in  three  different 
directions  at  one  time,  and  only  one  eye  for  all,  but  I 
am  "  remarkable,  contributor,"  you  know.)  At  the 
first  pause  Dr.  Elder  took  his  daughter's  hand,  saying, 
"Allow  me  to  present  you  to  Gail  Hamilton."  I  put 
up  my  hand  with  a  deprecating  gesture  and  turned 
away  with  a  distressed  look  without  speaking  a  word, 
at  which  they  all  laughed,  and  Miss  Mott  seized 
the  opportunity  to  introduce  me  to  Gen.  Wilson,  who 
said  :  "I  am  informed  that  I  have  a  constituent 
here."  "I  think,  sir,  I  have  a  right  to  claim  property 
in  you."  What  part  of  the  State,  etc..  He  once 
knew  a  Mr.  Dodge  from  that  town  in  the  House,  and 
then  I  went  back  to  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Elder.  Mr  Grow, 


214     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

of  Pennsylvania,  joined  our  group  after  Dr.  Elder 
was  hauled  off,  and  remarked  something  to  one  of 
them  about  such  a  thing  being  in  order.  I  said,  smiling, 
"I  am  sure,  sir,  I  know  your  position  if  I  don't  know 
your  name."  Whereupon  somebody  introduced  Mr. 
Grow  to  Miss  Dodge,  who  made  mutual  obeisance. 

Wanting  a  net  for  my  hair,  I  priced  them  at  the 
store,  and  found  them  a  dollar  and  a  quarter.  I 
thought  of  buying  some  silk,  and  sending  to  you  to 
do,  but  Mrs.  B.  advised  me  to  get  Mary  MacLain  to 
teach  me  and  do  it  myself.  So  I  bought  the  silk  for 
forty  cents,  and  learned  it  in  two  stitches,  and  the 
net  is  nearly  half  done.  Quite  a  difference  in  price. 
Derby  &  Jackson,  of  New  York,  Mr.  Wood's  pub 
lishers,  sent  to  him  asking  if  he  knew  who  Gail  Ham 
ilton  was.  Mr.  Goodrich  Smith  does  not  like  my 
"  Men  and  Women,"  thinks  they  are  not  Christian 
enough  for  a  professing  Christian.  Consequently, 
Mr.  Goodrich  Smith  may  go  to  Coventry,  or,  as 
Doctor  Bailey  said  when  I  told  him,  —  "  Hang  Mr. 
Smith  !  "  His  is  the  only  dissentient  voice  I  have  heard 
thus  far.  When  I  was  a  little  girl,  and  wanted  to 
know  whether  a  book  was  a  Sunday  book  or  not,  I  used 
to  look  it  over,  and  if  I  could  find  the  word  "  God  " 
in  it  anywhere,  I  considered  the  question  settled.  So 
Mr.  Goodrich  Smith  seems  to  think  that  Christian 
must  be  called  out  by  name,  or  it  cannot  be  present. 
However,  I  think  even  he  must  be  satisfied  before  he 
gets  through,  for  it  turns  out  to  be  quite  a  sermon. 

JANUARY  24. 

The  American  Colonization  Society  had  their  an 
nual  meeting  that  evening.  Mr.  Orcutt,  whom  I  used 
to  know  in  Hartford,  is  its  agent,  and  as  I  thought  he 


FIRST  YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  215 

would  probably  be  there  I  concluded  to  go.     It  was 
held  at  the  Smithsonian.     We  arrived  late.     After  we 
got  in  I  found  that  we  had  got  on  the  side  opposite  Mr. 
0.,  who    was    sitting  on   the    platform.     I  told  Mr. 
Wood,  and  he  immediately  got  up  and  "  toted  "  me 
round  to  the  other  side.    After  a  while  he  got  up  again, 
and  went  to  Mr.  Orcutt,  and  sent  him  to  me,  and  he 
sat  by  me  as  long  as  I  stayed.     Mrs.  Adams,  a  poor 
woman,  came   that   day  to  let   down  my  black    silk 
dress  —  asked  twenty  cents.     I  gave  her  a  quarter, 
and  three  or  four  pairs  of  good  stockings,  so  I  think 
she  made  a    very  good   morning's  work  of  it.     Mr. 
Wood  said  that  Mrs.  Gale  wanted   me    to  come  up 
there  a  little  while  that  evening,  but  he  would  not  tell 
me  what   for.     I  went  and  found  two  ladies    there, 
teachers  in  Miss  Miner's  school  for  negro  girls,  which 
made  such  a  stir  a  while  ago.     I  promised  to  go  to  see 
the    school    sometime    with   Mrs.    G.       Entertained 
them  as  well  as  I  could  for  a  half-hour  or  so,  and  re 
turned.     Thursday  there  was  a  "hop"  at   the   Na 
tional   Hotel,    and   the    Misses    Mott    and    Mr.    De 
Naise  sent  a  particular  invitation  for  me  to  come,  but 
I  had  just  before  been  invited  by  Mr.  Wood  to  go  to 
the  Capitol,  to  be  present  at  an  evening  session,  so  I 
had  a  good  excuse  for  not  going.     Friday  was  very 
rainy,  but  as  I  had  some  shopping  to  do  to  get  ready 
for  Saturday,  I  went  out  after  dinner.     Coming  home, 
called  at  the  Pikes.     They  were  finishing  their  dinner 
—  stopped  and  took  a   piece  of   pie,   and  a  glass  of 
wine  (  !)  and  a  bit  of  fruit  cake  in  my  pocket.     In  the 
evening  Mrs.  Pike  gave  a  party  to  the  Baileys,  and 
at  the   Bailey's,  because  the  Dr.  could  not  go    out. 
They  undertook  to  have  a  dance  and  wanted  me  to 
join  the  first    part  of   the  evening,  but   I   wouldn't 


21 6     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

because  I  couldn't,  so  I  took  Mrs.  Bailey's  hand  at 
cards,  and  she  took  my  place  in  the  dunce,  though  she 
never  danced  before  in  her  life.  Toward  the  latter 
part  of  the  evening  they  tried  it  again.  As  soon  as 
they  began  to  speak  of  it  I  ran,  but  Mr.  Wood  and 
Ella  Kirby  caught  me  and  brought  me  back  bv  main 
force,  and  I  went  through  it.  Mrs.  B.  said  I  did  as 
well  as  the  rest,  several  of  them  knew  no  more  about 
it  than  I,  so  it  was  fine  fun.  Saturday  morning  I  had 
letters  from  Augusta  and  Mr.  Richardson.  He  says  : 
"•  Your  letter  of  the  14th,  accompanied  by  a  commu 
nication  for  the  'Cong.,'  was  duly  received.  With 
the  latter  we  were  particularly  pleased  as  well  as  the 
former."  Of  my  "  Men  and  Women,"  he  says,  "  'Hit 
him  again '  I  am  disposed  to  say,  and  Mrs.  R. 
heartily  seconds  the  suggestion."  You  need  not  be 
afraid  of  my  breaking  down  under  the  weight  of  flat 
tery.  I  have  borne  a  good  deal  in  my  day,  and  am 
thriving  still.  Your  sentiments  about  my  writing  are 
just,  goose,  and  your  criticism  always  to  the  purpose, 
scamp.  I  believe  you  never  offered  one,  scoundrel, 
of  which  I  did  not  make  use.  What  do  you  care 
if  you  did  go  to  the  "Cong."  office?  Good  as  the 
best  of  'em  any  time.  As  to  the  cards,  I  am  afraid 
mother  will  absolutely  "give  up"  when  she  finds 
dancing  and  wine-drinking  added  to  the  list.  Never 
mind,  mother,  my  temptations  don't  lie  in  that  di 
rection,  and  if  all  the  trouble  is  that  it  "don't  have 
a  good  sound,"  why  just  don't  sound  it,  that's  all. 

It  seems  quite  strange  to  hear  you  talk  about  the 
cold  weather  and  snow.  We  have  been  luxuriating 
in  most  delightful  spring  sunshine.  I  have  kept  my 
window  open  half  the  time  till  yesterday,  when  we 
had  a  "  cold  snap."  I  did  not  send  your  item  to  the 


FIRST   YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  217 

"  Congregationalist,"  because  I  do  not  entirely  ap 
prove  of  Mr.  Mordough's  flings.  I  like  the  bravery, 
but  not  the  mode  of  displaying  it.  I  think  them  more 
spirited  than  spiritual.  As  to  cards,  mother,  I  really 
don't  want  you  to  think  I  am  in  the  least  devoted  to 
them.  I  would  rather  read  or  talk,  but  they  are  very 
convenient  to  take  off  the  stiffness  of  company,  and 
we  carry  on  our  conversation  all  the  time.  Mrs. 
Bailey  and  I  went  down  to  the  National  to  call  on 
the  Motts,  Elders,  etc.,  none  of  whom  were  in. 
Just  as  we  were  opening  the  outer  door,  however,  Dr. 
Elder  came  and  stood  and  talked  till  our  carriage 
came ;  asked  where  I  was  the  evening  he  was  in,  and 
whispered  to  me,  "  I  have  a  kiss  for  you,  but  you 
can't  get  it."  I  supposed  likely  L.  K.  Lippincott, 
who  is  a  great  rogue,  and  who  knows  him  well,  gave 
him  the  commission,  so  I  said  nothing  and  looked  in 
the  opposite  direction  so  that  he  could  not  see  my 
face.  After  we  had  gone,  Mrs.  B.  says,  "  What  im 
pertinence  was  he  whispering  to  you?"  I  told  her. 
She  laughed  and  said  there  was  no  danger  for  me 
because  I  did  not  mind  such  things,  but  it  would  not 
do  for  some  girls.  I  fudged  myself  for  evening  in 
my  black  silk  with  low  neck  and  short  sleeves,  wore 
that  broad  black  lace  fastened  to  the  neck  for  a 
bertha,  and  a  black  lace  under-handkerchief  which  I 
made  myself,  and  black  mitts,  all  in  black,  you  sec, 
—  couldn't  quite  suit  myself  and  went  down  to  Mrs. 
Bailey's  room,  where  Mrs.  Pratt  took  me  in  hand,  put 
one  pearl  pin  in  at  one  place,  and  a  ruby  in  another, 
looped  up  my  bertha  on  the  shoulders  with  black 
velvet  furnished  by  Mrs.  Bailey,  and  declared  I  should 
be  the  belle  of  the  evening.  I  went  through  another 
round  of  compliments — even  Dr.  Bailey  declared 


218     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

the  dress  to  be  very  becoming  and  he  never  spoke  of 
my  dress  before,  one  way  or  the  other.  Well  Mr. 
Hale  came  first  as  before  —  and  we  —  played  whist ! 
I  being  Mr.  Male's  partner,  under  protest,  though,  as 
I  was  afraid  I  should  make  him  lose  the  game.  We 
gained,  however,  played  only  one  game,  then  Mr. 
Hale  and  I  went  off  to  a  sofa  and  had  a  small  chat, 
and  then  I  went  off  by  the  supper  table  at  one  end  of 
the  room  and  men  huddled  together  at  the  other,  till 
Mrs.  Bailey  came  after  me  with  a  sharp  stick  and 
told  me  to  "  pitch  into  "  the  men  and  not  stay  there. 
She  carried  me  half  across  the  room  and  then  was 
called  off,  and  I  stood  still  and  took  a  view  of  the 
enemy  —  finally  saw  one  I  knew,  Mr.  Baumgras,  and 
struck  a  bee-line  for  him.  Dr.  Peter  Parker  nabbed 
me,  and  after  a  little  complimentary  nonsense  intro 
duced  Mr.  Warren,  of  Charlestown,  Mass.  He  be 
longs  to  the  Warrens  famous  in  history.  He  was  an 
accomplished  and  intelligent  gentleman  — inquired  who 
Mr.  Baumgras  was.  I  gave  him  an  obituary  of  that 
gentleman,  introduced  them,  and  left  them  — was  next 
seized  by  Dr.  Elder,  who  posted  me  into  a  corner 
where  we  were  completely  shut  up  and  talked  a  long 
while.  Mr.  Preston  King  came  up  and  begged  his 
pardon  for  interrupting  his  conversation  with  that 
interesting  young  lady  (that's  me ! )  but  he  could  not 
allow  Dr.  E.  to  forget  him — he  stayed  but  a  few 
moments,  however.  We  talked  about  likings  and 
dislikings,  women  marrying  inferior  men,  the  prin 
ciples  of  right  and  wrong,  and  finally  somehow  got  on 
to  myself,  my  shyness,  its  causes,  etc.,  and  wasn't  he 
clever  ?  I  tell  you  what  —  well,  never  mind.  "  Well," 
says  he,  at  last,  with  an  oracular  and  decisive  air,  "  I 
like  you."  I  smiled  and  made  no  reply.  "  Why 


FIRST  YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  219 

don't  you  say  you  don't  wonder  at  it?  "  he  continued. 
"  But  suppose  I  do?"  said  I.  "  Now  tell  me  do  you 
wonder  that  I  like  you ?  (I.)  "  Well  I  — 1--  (He.) 
"No,  speak  right  out  now,  don't  you  think  you  de 
serve  my  love  ?"  (I.)  "Yes,  sir,  I  think  in  my 
soul,  and  really  if  you  knew  me,  you  would  like  me." 
(He.)  "  No,  I  don't  mean  mere  liking.  It  is  stronger 
than  that — I  love  you."  (I.)  "Love  then,  I  am 
good  enough  to  be  loved,  only  I  am  surprised  that, 
considering  the  disadvantages  under  which  I  labor, 
you  should  find  it  out  so  soon."  We  then  had  a  short 
discussion  on  elective  affinities  —  interrupted  by  a 
young  lady's  dancing  up  to  us,  and  I  took  occasion 
to  clear  out,  was  accosted  by  Mr.  Lovejoy,  who  offered 
me  oysters,  but  I  declined  and  took  a  lump  of  sugar 
instead  and  held  one  over  his  saucer  asking  him  if  he 
would  have  sugar  in  his  oysters.  "  No,  you  vixen." 
Somebody  spoke  to  me  and  Dr.  Elder  was  at  my 
elbow  after  oysters,  he  said,  but  he  took  me  first, 
and  I  thought  we  were  in  for  another  confab,  but 
Mrs.  Bailey  sent  up  word  that  I  should  have  Dr.  E. 
no  louger,  that  there  were  ever  so  many  people  want 
ing  to  see  him,  so  he  trudged  off.  Mrs.  B.  cnme  to 
me  presently  and  said  there  was  a  lady  here  from 
Essex  County  who  wanted  to  see  me,  Mrs.  Robert 
Rantoul,  and  took  me  out  to  her  and  presented  me. 
I  couldn't  talk  with  her  very  well,  couldn't  think  of 
anything  to  say,  aud  in  a  desperation  proposed  to  call 
on  her  at  her  hotel  and  left.  Then  I  went  and  stood 
by  the  piano  —  hauling  off  to  repair  damages  —  took 
a  survey  to  see  where  to  commence  operations  next. 
Mr.  Preston  King  was  sitting  on  the  sofa  talking  to  a 
lady.  He  got  up  and  I  hoped  he  was  coming  to  me, 
but  concluded  if  he  didn't  I  would  go  to  him.  He 


220     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

did  come  to  me  and  I  told  him  my  surmises.  He 
laughed  and  said,  "  Yes.  he  got  up  to  come,"  and  then 
we  went  into  the  mysterious  connection  of  mind  and 
mutter."  I  told  him  I  would  offer  him  a  chair  only 
there  was  no  available  one  except  a  little  cane-seat 
which  I  was  afraid  to  trust;  hoped  he  wouldn't  think 
I  was  personal.  "Of  course  not.  Did  I  think  that 
he  thought  the  mention  of  a  chair  was  personal?" 
General  Wilson  interrupted  our  conversation,  and  then 
Miss  Elder  again,  so  that  I  did  not  talk  with  him 
much.  Dr.  B.  introduced  me  to  Mr.  Carter,  a  very 
severe  critic,  "  a  writer  for  the  '  Tribune,'  a  friend  of 
Emerson's,  and  a  very  wise  man  generally."  Marcel 
told  me  afterwards  that  Mr.  C.  had  been  sight iry  me 
all  the  evening  and  Frank  said  he  had  asked  him  to 
point  me  out.  Dr.  made  me  sit  down  between  them 
on  the  sofa,  and  Mr.  Carter  began  to  say  something 
about  my  "  Era  "  productions  which  rather  confused  me 
so  (hat  I  forgot  exactly  what  it  was,  but  I  believe  the 
gist  of  it  was  that  he  supposed  them  written  by  a 
man,  some  friend  of  the  Dr.'s,  and  was  surprised  to 
lind  them  by  me.  I  never  know  what  to  do  when 
people  talk  to  me  in  that  way,  and  so  generally  stare 
and  simper  like  a  simpleton.  Mr.  Lovejoy  came  up 
again  and  said,  "  That  man  knows  more  than  any 
dozen  other  men  in  the  city."  We  talked  about  writ 
ing,  and  Emerson,  and  editors,  and  Concord,  and 
the  sea-coast.  Dr.  Elder  came  up  again  to  bid  me 
good-night.  Most  of  the  people  were  gone.  He 
shook  hands,  apologized  for  the  interruption,  and 
said  in  a  low  voice,  '•  You  know  what  I  said  I  had 
for  you."  I  replied  gayly,  "  Yes,  payable  on  demand." 
Presentl}'  they  were  all  gone  but  the  Pikes,  my  Mr. 
Carter,  and  a  Mr.  Harrington,  and  General  Wilson, 


FIRST  YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  221 

and  then  they  wanted  to  dance  and  I  had  to  join,  and 
we  had  a  nice  time  and  agreed  that  we  had  all  had  a 
charming  evening  and  went  to  bed.  It  was  about 
eleven,  so  you  see  we  did  not  trench  upon  Sunday. 
We  have  a  new  minister  here,  Dr.  Butler,  of  Cincin 
nati,  who  preached  here  four  years  ago  and  has  re 
turned.  I  like  him  exceedingly  and  expect  to  enjoy 
going  to  church  again,  which  I  can't  say  I  have  done 
before  since  I  have  been  here,  I  mean  as  far  as  the 
sermon  goes.  Dr.  Bailey  sent  up  and  hired  a  pew  as 
soon  as  be  heard  he  wns  coming  back,  and  we  made 
a  pew- full  yesterday.  I  went  with  Mr.  Wood  in  the 
evening  and  liked  him  better  even  than  in  the  morning. 
I  must  stop.  Good-night. 

JANUARY  27. 

Mrs.  Bailey  took  my  head  into  her  hands  to-night, 
and  curled  my  hair,  and  trimmed  my  net  with  chenille 
to  the  great  admiration  of  some,  and  the  disgust  of 
others.  Mrs.  Pratt  has  just  told  me  that  a  lady 
wanted  to  be  introduced  to  me,  and  she  wouldn't  be 
cause  I  had  my  head  "  fixed  up,"  so  she  told  her, 
"  She  did  not  wish  to  introduce  Miss  Dodge  to  her  to 
night,  she  would  another  night."  I  saw  Mr.  Joshua 
R.  Giddings  in  the  entry,  and  said  to  Mrs.  Bailey 
that  I  wanted  to  speak  to  him  just  to  say  that  I  had. 
She  introduced  me.  When  I  said,  "  Mr.  Giddings,  I 
have  been  making  Mrs.  B.  promise  to  give  me  a  chance 
to  speak  one  word  with  you,  as  it  is  one  of  the  things  I 
looked  forward  to  most  in  coming  to  Washington,  and 
shall  look  back  upon  with  most  pleasure."  You  know 
I  talk  fast,  and  will  you  believe  —  instead  of  my 
minute,  he  sat  down  in  an  arm-chair,  and  placed  a 
small  one  for  me  in  front  of  him,  and  talked  with  me 


222     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

half  an  hour  I  should  think  —  of  his  political  life,  his 
griefs  — asked  me  about  Hamilton.  I  told  him  about 
its  being  the  nursing  mother  of  the  father  of  Ohio  — 
he  told  me  his  father  was  a  Gloucester  boy.  I  told 
him  that  such  men  as  he  were  above  flattery,  and  I 
could  therefore  tell  him  how  his  name  had  been  one 
of  my  earliest  enthusiasms.  I  asked  him  if  I  should 
take  his  cup  for  more  coffee.  "  Did  I  think  he  would 
be  so  ungallant  as  to  allow  me  to  wait  upon  him  in 
that  way?"  "  But  his  age,  if  I  might  allude  to  what 
was  generally  a  delicate  subject,  but  which  his  crown 
of  glory  rendered  honorable,  and  his  position  quite 
reversed  the  order  of  things,  and  I  should  be  only  too 
well  pleased  to  do  it,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

FEBRUARY  26. 

MY  DEAR  A. :  Your  letters  I  have  not  answered 
before  because  I  have  put  off  everything  that  could 
be  put  off  till  Congress  was  over,  or,  at  least,  till  my 
hurries  were  over.  I  have  been  in  such  a  whirl  that 
sometimes  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  about.  First, 
you  know,  I  have  my  pupils  —  then  those  articles  in 
the  "Era,"  once  begun,  had  of  course  to  be  kept  up 
every  week  —  then  there  were  books  to  review,  and 
books  to  be  reviewed  must  be  read.  The  notices  of 
"The  Land  and  the  Book,"  "Palfrey's  History  of 
New  England,"  "  Atlantic  Monthly,  "  "  British  Poets 
and  Ballads,"  "Sylvan  Holt's  Daughter,"  "  Madame 
Mario,"  and  several  others,  I  wrote.  Then  there 
were  the  "  Washington  Letters"  in  the  "  Cong." 
and  the  occasional  stories,  and  every  evening  from 
seven  till  twelve,  or  thereabouts,  in  the  parlor  with 
company  —  and  a  good  many  calls  to  return.  You 
may  fancy  I  had  not  much  opportunity  for  writ- 


FIRST  YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  223 

ing  letters,  though  I  have  kept  up  my  weekly  letter 
home  with  great  regularity.  Now  I  have  finished  my 
"  Men  and  Women,"  and  I  shall  have  but  one  or  two 
more  letters  to  write,  and  I  hope  to  have  a  little  more 
time  at  my  disposal. 

You  speak  of  Mr.  Wood's  ideas  having  been  propa 
gated  by  the  Spiritualists.  It  is  quite  time,  for  all 
the  valuable  ideas  I  ever  knew  them  to  propagate 
were  held  by  good  Orthodox  people  who  had  any 
ideas  on  the  subject.  I  investigated  this  matter  of 
Spiritualism  pretty  thoroughly  a  few  years  ago.  I 
read  their  own  papers,  and  though  I  do  by  no  means 
believe  that  it  is  all  humbug,  or  sympathize  with  the 
ill-bred,  foolish,  useless,  and  blundering  way  in  which 
they  are  snubbed  by  some  of  their  opponents,  yet  I 
think  if  those  who  believe  in  it  had  been  better  ac 
quainted  with  the  views  held  by  intelligent,  thinking 
Christians  they  would  have  said  less  about  their  own 
opinions  being  so  far  in  advance  of  the  age.  They 
would  have  known  that  many  views  which  charmed 
themselves  by  their  novelty  had  been  long  familiar  to 
Evangelical  Christians,  but  being  entirely  new  to 
themselves,  they  supposed  they  were  equally  so  to 
others.  However,  I  believe  Spiritualism  has  its  own 
work  to  do  in  the  world's  salvation.  It  wakes  us  up 
on  the  subject,  makes  us  familiar  with  the  idea  of  a 
Future  Life  —  and  at  least  gives  rise  to  the  question  — 
If  that  is  not  true,  what  is  true? 

I  can  fully  understand  how  large  a  part  of  your 
life  is  taken  up  by  reading.  I  mean,  rather,  consists 
in  your  reading.  Isolated  as  you  are  from  a  great 
deal  of  the  world,  you  are  very  happy  in  being  able  to 
make  for  yourself  an  inner  life.  Yet  if  I  were  to 
choose  between  a  life  in  Washington,  as  I  see  it  in  the 


224     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

societ\"  women  here,  arid  a  life  such  as  yours,  I  should, 
I  think,  very  decidedly  choose  yours.  I  do  not  be 
lieve  this  constant  attention  to  dress,  and  dinners, 
and  visits,  and  sharp,  smart,  or  proper  savings,  is 
calculated  to  develop  the  higher  qualities  of  the  soul. 
I  would  r.-ither  grow  great  than  grow  sharp.  If  I  go 
home  to  Hamilton  next  summer  I  shall  be  in  about  the 
same  condition  as  to  society  that  you  are  in,  and  shall 
depend  upon  books  in  much  the  same  way.  I  have 
kept  your  New  Year's  letter  to  answer,  though  I  suppose 
by  this  time  you  have  about  forgotten  the  questions. 
Mr.  Male's  daughter  is  not  in  Washington,  but  his 
wife  is.  She  is  very  beautiful.  I  like  him — he  is 
very  kind-hearted,  rather  brusque,  jerky  in  conversa 
tion,  but  one  to  laugh  and  joke  with  as  hard  as  you 
please.  Shall  I  tell  you  who  of  the  Members  are  my 
favorites  ?  Well,  Preston  King,  Senator  from  New 
York,  the  fattest  man  you  ever  saw,  an  old  bachelor, 
red  faced,  ugly  but  jovial,  sociable,  high-toned  withal, 
of  excellent  principles,  and  fair  capacity  so  far  as  I 
can  judge.  Mr.  Doolittle,  of  Wisconsin,  a  noble 
man,  of  fine  presence  —  the  more  I  know  him  the 
better  I  like  him.  In  the  house,  Mr.  Lovejoy  is  a 
good,  honest,  burly,  big  fellow,  and  likes  me  and  I 
like  him,  so  we  get  confiding  occasionally.  Mr.  Bur- 
lingame,  of  Massachusetts,  is  good  as  far  as  he  goes. 
Mr.  Wilson,  of  Massachusetts,  Senator,  is  not  very 
well  educated,  and  besides,  as  somebody  here  said, 
"  he  feels  his  oats."  Mr.  Dow,  of  Massachusetts,  I 
have  met  but  once,  but  I  liked  him  then.  Mr.  Clark, 
of  Connecticut,  I  like.  Mr.  Grow,  of  Pennsylvania, 
is  rather  odd,  but  I  rather  like  him.  Mr.  Giddiugs, 
of  Ohio,  old  Joshua  R.,  I  have  had  delightful  long  talks 
with  —  he  has  told  me  about  himself,  and  his  early 


FIRST  YEAR  IN   WASHINGTON  225 

trouble,  and  we  are  on  excellent  terms.  We  have  a 
reception  every  Saturday  night  at  which  all  these 
people  and  a  good  many  others  come,  so  I  have  a 
fine  chance  to  see  them,  and  I  enjoy  it  exceedingly, 
and  quite  astonish  my  friends  by  the  manner  in  which 
I  come  out.  Dr.  Elder,  of  Philadelphia,  the  author 
of  the  "  Life  of  Doctor  Kane,"  is  in  town,  and  we  have 
struck  up  quite  an  intimacy.  Mr.  Hale  remembered 
you  perfectly  when  I  spoke  of  you  to  him,  and 
inquired  your  welfare  with  a  great  deal  of  interest, 
and  spoke  of  you  very  highly.  Congress  adjourns 
next  Friday,  and  then  I  suppose  we  shall  be  very 
quiet,  and  I  shall  want  to  go  home.  I  have,  how 
ever,  some  very  good  friends  in  the  city  whom  I  in 
tend  to  cultivate,  but  the  excitement  and  whirligig 
will  be  gone.  I  shall  read  more,  and  walk  more,  and 
sleep  more. 

The  Patent  Office  is  very  different  now.  All  the 
fine  fancy  things  have  been  removed  to  the  Smithso 
nian.  I  have  walked  over  to  Georgetown  with  Mr. 
Hale,  and  rode  over  with  the  Dr.  We  got  out  and 
ran  up  the  hills  by  the  side  of  the  road  on  Georgetown 
Heights.  It  was  one  of  the  finest  views  I  ever  saw. 
We  have  had  no  winter  at  all  scarcely  —  most  of  the 
time  I  have  had  my  window  open.  You  asked  me  if 
I  wrote  my  politics  myself,  or  got  some  masculine 
friend  to  do  it.  Scamp !  Do  you  think  I  am  not  up 
to  such  things  myself  ?  Yes,  ma'am,  I  wrote  them 
myself. 

Monday  morning.  Since  I  commenced  this  one  of 
our  neighbors  who  lived  in  the  same  block  with  us  has 
been  shot  dead  by  Mr.  Sickles,  Member  of  the  House 
from  New  York.  It  occurred  yesterday  about  noon. 
If  ever  murder  was  justifiable,  I  think  this  was.  I 


220     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

went  yesterday  to  hear  Mrs.  Lucretia  Mott  preach. 
She  was  at  our  house  Saturday  night.  One  of  the 
sweetest  faces  I  ever  saw,  and  a  charming,  benevo 
lent  old  lady.  I  quite  fell  in  love  with  her.  Her 
husband's  brother,  Mr.  Mott,  is  Member  of  the 
House,  and  has  two  delightful  daughters,  whose  ac 
quaintance  I  have  made  here.  I  hope  it  won't  be 
quite  so  long  before  we  exchange  letters  again.  Good 
morning. 

Affectionately  yours, 

ABBY. 

MARCH  18. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  commence  a  letter  to  you 
with  but  a  very  indefinite  notion  of  when  I  shall  finish 
it.  I  received  a  paper,  the  "Observer,"  from  you 
yesterday,  containing  a  notice  of  Aunt's  death,  also 
that  very  curious  reckoning  up  of  the  deaths  for  a 
year —  making  out  the  deaths  in  Hamilton  to  be  at  the 
rate  of  a  quarter  of  the  population  yearly.  Now  I 
cannot  believe  that  Providence  intends  to  kill  off  the 
population  at  that  rate,  and  I  see  no  use  in  making 
such  a  calculation,  nor  any  sense  either.  It  reminds 
me  of  the  time  when  a  slight  shock  of  earthquake  was 
felt  Sunday  morning,  and  Squire  Allen  and  several 
others  improved  it  by  exhorting  sinners  to  repentance. 
For  my  part,  I  saw  no  connection  between  the  two 
things.  If  God's  love  and  goodness  and  justice  are 
not  enough  to  draw  men  to  him  I  don't  believe  they 
will  generally  be  impelled  by  a  very  slight  earthquake. 
Nor  do  I  think  men  will  be  benefited  by  being  told 
that  they  are  dying  at  the  rate  of  a  quarter  of  a  town 
a  year  —  particularly  when  they  know  they  are  not. 

I  went  a  few  evenings  since  to  hear  Mrs.  Fanny 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON  227 

Kemble  Butler  read  a  play  of  Shakespeare's.  The 
audience  was  not  large,  being,  as  Maria  remarked,  de 
cidedly  sectarian,  composed  chiefly  of  Episcopalians 
and  the  gayest  of  the  Congregationalists.  Mrs.  But 
ler  is  perhaps  fifty  years  old,  and  from  shoulder  to 
shoulder  the  broadest  woman  I  should  think  that  I 
ever  saw.  Her  arm  is  the  arm  of  a  blacksmith.  She 
wore  low  neck  and  short  sleeves —  a  dress  that  looked 
as  if  it  was  lace  over  silk,  and  no  hoops.  Her  read 
ing  and  acting  were  very  fine. 

Mr.  Wood  proposed  to  me  that  evening  to  go  to  his 
church  the  next  evening  to  witness  a  baptism.  I  had 
never  seen  one  (by  immersion),  and  assented.  The 
church  was  crowded,  for  besides  the  Baptists  there 
was  also  an  Episcopalian  who  was  to  be  plunged  by 
an  Episcopal  minister.  It  went  off  very  well,  but  it 
made  me  terribly  nervous  to  see  them  go  backwards 
so.  If  they  could  only  have  been  immersed  face 
downward,  I  should  not  have  cared.  Dr.  Peter  Parker 
has  moved  into  the  house  where  Key  used  to  live,  so 
we  shall  have  him  for  a  neighbor. 

MARCH  30. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Curtis  on  Sunday,  argu 
mentative  and  valedictorian,  —  desiring  me  to  sign  his 
death-warrant,  if  it  must  be  so.  I  replied  to  it  yester 
day  with  six  pages.  You  think  the  chief  part  of  your 
leisure  time  is  spent  in  writing  letters.  I  wish  I  had 
kept  an  account  of  the  number  of  pages  I  have  written 
this  year.  .  .  .  If  I  ever  teach  in  any  High 
School  it  will  be  Hartford.  I  can't  yet  tell  what  I 
shall  do.  My  inclinations  indicate  very  strongly  not 
to  teach  at  all.  Mr.  Wood's  injunctions  are  equally 
stringent.  The  Curtiscs  are  mad  to  have  me  return 


228     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

to  Hartford.  Dr.  Bailey  has  his  heart  on  my  coming 
here.  Mrs.  Bailey  says  see  what  it  is  to  be  in  de 
mand !  I  had  a  long  talk  with  Mrs.  B.,  two  of 
them  indeed  —  but  I  think  it  would  be  more  profitable 
in  the  end  for  me  not  to  teach  —  particularly  as  I  am  so 
thoroughly  tired  of  it.  I  will  let  you  know  as  soon  as  I 
have  decided.  Mr.  Goodlow,  calling,  says  I  don't  know 
how  popular  I  am  getting  in  the  city.  A  lady  came 
to  him  for  the  set  of  papers  containing  my  "  Men  and 
Women"  —they  had  been  recommended  to  her  by 
Rev.  Mr.  Hall.  A  gentleman  from  Michigan  wrote 
to  the  Dr.  to  send  him  a  set  of  the  papers  containing 
the  same,  and  entreated  to  know  who  Gail  Hamilton 
was. 

APRIL  5. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  was  making  a  call  yesterday, 
and  while  there  the  lady's  mother  came  into  the  room, 
and  I  was  introduced  to  her.  After  a  while  she  rose 
from  her  seat  and  left  the  lady  with  whom  she  waa 
talking  and  said  to  me,  "  What  did  I  understand  your 
name  to  be?"  I  told  her,  and  her  daughter  said, 
"  Why,  it's  Gail  Hamilton.  You  know  her."  She 
then  came  and  sat  down  by  me,  asked  where  I  was 
from,  and  said  I  might  be  related  to  the  Dodges  of 
AVenham.  Well,  we  went  on  talking,  and  she  spoke 
of  being  in  Essex  and  Gardiner,  and  Augusta,  and 
finally  it  came  out  that  she  knew  Captain  Stan  wood 
and  his  wife  very  well,  — "Old  Captain  Stanwood,"- 
a  great  while  ago.  She  said  she  had  sailed  in  his  ves 
sel  many  times  between  Ipswich  and  Gardiner  or 
Augusta,  I  forget  which,  —  had  seen  Mrs.  Stanwood 
down  there.  She  was  a  very  smart,  enterprising 
woman,  and  they  used  to  have  long  talks  together 
about  the  Ipswich  people,  and  she  knew  Uncle  Jacob 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON  229 

and  Aunt  Sally,  and  inquired  for  the  children  —  and 
Daniel  Stanwood,  she  believed,  lived  in  her  brother's 
house  —  and  she  knew  Dr.  Dana,  of  Ipswich,  and  Mrs. 
Choate,  of  Essex,  and  Mr.  David  Choate,  and  Mr. 
Crowell,  and  all  those  old  worthies.  Now  can  you 
guess  who  it  was?  Well,  it  was  Mrs.  Webster,  the 
sister  of  Dr.  Sewell,  of  Essex.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
her  or  of  him?  She  is  a  pleasant  old  lady,  and 
seemed  right  glad  to  see  me  and  talk  over  her  old 
friends  and  my  relatives.  Her  daughter,  whom  I 
went  to  see,  is  Mrs.  Lindsley,  wife  of  Dr.  Bailey's 
family  physician,  mother  of  Rev.  Mr.  Washburn, 
rector  of  Judge  Huntington's  church  in  Hartford,  and 
sister  of  Dr.  Peter  Parker's  wife. 

I  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Wood  on  Sunday  morn 
ing.  He  says,  "  As  to  your  continuing  here,  you  know 
how  much  it  would  add  to  rny  happiness  to  have  you 
in  the  doctor's  family,  yet,  while  my  own  pleasure 
would  be  secured  by  your  doing  so,  I  do  not  think  it 
best  if  you  do  not  design  to  give  up  all  your  aspira 
tions  for  authorship.  I  shall  deposit  in  the  'Insti 
tute  for  Savings,'  No.  576  Broadway,  before  I  return, 
$200,  which  I  have  set  apart  for  you  so  that  you  shall 
have  this  fund  to  supply  yourself  with  the  means  of 
making  a  beginning,"  etc.,  etc.  I  do  not  think  I  shall 
touch  it,  as  I  don't  think  it  will  be  necessary,  but  it  is 
just  as  kind  in  him. 

You  ask  me  how  old  I  was  yesterday?  Well,  I've 
got  to  the  water-shed  and  now  I  am  going  down  the 
other  side.  Consequently,  I  am  twenty-four.  If  I 
live  till  next  year  I  shall  be  twenty-three  and  so  on 
till  I  get  to  twenty,  when  I  shall  swing  back  again,  and 
thus  vibrate  between  twenty  and  twenty-five  during 
the  remainder  of  my  natural  life.  I  do  not  think 


230     GAIL  HAMILTON'S    LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

there  is  any  prospect  of  my  remaining  in  W.  during  the 
summer.  I  have  no  particular  plan  for  the  year  to 
come,  only  to  write  in  a  general  way  and  not  to  teach 
in  particular. 

APRIL  22. 

Edward  Spencer,  of  Baltimore,  who  wrote  "  Jasper," 
in  the  "  Era,"  is  going  to  have  a  story  in  the  "  At 
lantic  "  pretty  soon.  He  wrote  to  Dr.  Bailey  a  day  or 
two  ago,  "  I  should  like  to  have  held  Gail  Hamilton's 
catalogue  for  her  when  she  was  looking  at  the  pictures. 
How  daintily  yet  how  defiantly  she  handles  art  —  just 
as  she  would  dandle  a  baby  —  not  her  own  —  yet  with 
none  the  less  grace  and  confidence  for  that.  She 
understands  sunshine,  not  philosophically  or  accord 
ing  to  the  laws  of  optics,  but  because  she  has  lived 
in  it  and  danced  in  it  arid  knows  it  to  be  good.  It  is 
a  very  pretty  morning  star  that  will  shine  all  the  more 
brightly  and  serenely  when  the  sun  is  fully  risen. 
Her  pure  objectiveness,  her  perfect  unconsciousness 
of  ithe  ego,  is  the  great  charm  of  her  writings  for  me." 
Dr.  Bailey  thinks  of  going  to  Constantinople.  Mr. 
De  Naise  will  at  any  rate.  His  family  have  a  reunion 
there.  One  of  his  brothers,  who  is  an  officer  in  the 
Russian  army,  is  to  meet  him  in  Paris.  The  proba 
bility  is  now  that  he  will  go  before  the  Dr.  does  — 
that  the  Dr.  will  meet  Mr.  Sherman  and  wife  in 
Paris,  they  meet  De  Naise  at  Nice  after  he  has  made 
his  visit  home,  and  then  all  go  to  Italy  together.  I 
am  trying  to  make  one  of  those  bouquet  baskets  of 
white  beads  to  hang  up  in  the  window,  have  begun 
the  third  time  and  think  I  shall  take  it  out  once  more. 
They  are  very  pretty  if  well  made.  I  have  made  the 
skirts  of  my  two  thin  dresses,  am  making  over  a  black 


FIRST   YEAR   IN   WASHINGTON  231 

lace  cape  that  I  f adged  up  last  winter  —  and  mending 
in  a  general  way  to  keep  myself  in  some  sort  of  trim. 
I  am  reading  Prescott's  "  Life  of  Phillip  II.  of 
Spain" — very  interesting  —  you  must  read  it  —  and 
I  have  a  blank  book  in  which  I  note  down  the  impor 
tant  places  in  which  important  things  happened,  that  I 
may  have  it  all  ready  Avhen  I  go  to  Europe.  You  must 
read  some  of  those  books  if  you  intend  to  go  with  me. 
Mr.  Wood  wanted  me  to  send  my  papers  on  art  to 
Miss  Ransom,  a  young  lady,  an  admirer  of  mine, 
whom  I  met  here  last  winter  —  but,  as  she  is  an  artist 
herself,  I  wrote  to  her  telling  her  I  would  do  no  such 
thing.  Mrs.  Dr.  Butler  and  her  daughter  called  here 
on  Monday  evening.  The  Dr.  was  asleep  on  the 
sofa,  Mrs.  B.  asleep  in  her  chair.  I  routed  them  up 
and  Mrs.  Butler  sat  down  by  them  and  nobody  intro 
duced  me,  so  I  went  on  with  my  reading,  listening 
when  anything  interesting  was  said,  but  saying  noth 
ing.  As  Mrs.  Butler  left  after  an  hour  or  so  she 
bowed  to  me  and  Mrs.  Bailey  saw  me  for  the  first 
time,  said  she  did  not  know  I  was  in  the  room.  We 
had  a  little  laugh  over  it,  and  the  next  day  Mrs. 
Butler  called  again  and  said  she  was  determined  this 
time  to  make  sure  of  me. 

WASHINGTON,   April  30. 

I  think  your  criticism  of  "Jasper  "  is  just.  There 
is  not  enough  simplicity  and  naturalness  —  too  much 
fine  writing  and  learning.  Do  you  know  you  made  a 
pun  and  a  good  one  too  —  a  thing  unprecedented  in 
the  Dodge  family.  The  "Katy"  was  Kate  Putnam, 
of  Worcester.  I  wrote  the  piece  years  ago  when  I 
was  in  Ipswich,  at  Alvin's  request.  Easter  Monday 
we  had  a  holiday  which  I  improved  by  finishing  a 


232    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

black  lace  cape.  Then  Martha,  the  sewing-girl,  col 
ored,  who  has  made  a  confidante  of  me  and  repays  me 
by  giving  me  molasses  candy  and  mending  me  up  and 
doing  various  kind  things,  wanted  me  to  write  a  letter 
to  her  "lovyer"  in  China.  Didn't  I  lay  it  on  hot 
and  heavy?  She  actually  cried  when  I  read  it  to  her. 
It  was  "just  the  feelings  she  wanted  to  express." 
"  Miss  Abby,  you  must  have  had  some  experience  in  it 
yourself  or  you  never  could  have  written  so  !  !  !  "  Mr. 
De  Naise  was  in  in  the  evening  and  wanted  to  know 
who  Gail  Hamilton  was.  She  had  written  something 
about  babies  which  De  Naise  read  in  the  parlor  at  the 
National  with  wonderful  effect,  as  a  baby  which  had 
been  accustomed  to  squall  there  diurually  had  not 
since  appeared.  Dr.  referred  him  to  me.  I  said 
I  had  never  even  asked  the  Dr.  who  it  was.  Dr. 
told  him  it  was  quite  remarkable  what  a  desire  there 
was  to  know  whether  G.  H.  was  a  man  or  woman. 
De  Naise  said  some  said  that  it  was  a  cross  old  bach 
elor,  and  others  a  sour  old  maid.  Presently  the  Dr. 
told  him. 

It  is  decided  at  last  that  Marcel  is  to  go  to  Europe 
with  his  father.  Mrs.  1>.  did  not  feel  easy  to  have 
him  go  alone.  Marcel  has  finished  with  his  tutor  and 
is  all  ready  to  study  law.  It  will  be  a  grand  thing 
for  him  and  he  is  abundantly  able  to  profit  by  it. 
Dr.  sent  me  up  a  letter  from  somebody  out  West 
saying,  "And  the  wonderful  Gail  Hamilton.  '  Is  it  a 
man  or  a  woman?'  is  a  standing  topic  of  discussion 
with  my  brothers  and  sisters.  For  myself,  I  have 
long  since  made  up  my  mind  that  Gail  is  feminine. 
We  like  her  immensely."  Thursday  I  had  a  letter 
from  my  graduating  class  on  some  twenty  or  thirty 
slips  of  paper.  In  their  surprise  and  gratitude  for 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON  233 

iny  letter  they  sat  down  there  at  the  party  and  with 
pen  and  pencil  wrote  me  messages.  I  was  of  course 
very  glad  to  get  it.  Ellen  Hunt  wants  my  photograph, 
but  I  don't  believe  she  suspects  how  much  it  will  cost. 
They  all  looked  at  my  picture  and  pronounced  it  ad 
mirable.  Nelly  Tarr,  who  used  to  be  governess  here, 
whose  a  friend  of  Grace  Greenwood's,  who  married 
Mr.  O'Connor,  sub-editor  of  the  "  Philadelphia  Post," 
and  who  lives  in  Philadelphia,  is  coming  to  see  Miss 
Miner,  and  she  wants  me  to  come  out  there  and  spend 
the  evening.  I  suppose  I  shall  go  next  week. 

MAY  2,  1859. 

This  delicious  summer  air  makes  me  want  to  go 
home.  I  want  to  live  in  the  country  —  to  plant,  and 
sow,  and  cultivate.  I  want  to  have  a  kitchen  garden 
and  a  flower  garden,  and  I  intend  to  have  them,  and 
will  be  a  famous  farmer  as  you  will  see. 

I  suppose  I  shall  come  back  here  next  fall.  I  did 
not  mean  to  teach  the  next  year  at  all,  but  they  want 
me  so  much  to  come  back,  and  the  Dr.  is  an  invalid 
and  wants  to  feel  easy  about  going  to  Europe. 
Washington  is  one  of  the  most  orderly  cities  I  ever 
saw. 

The  foot-passengers  and  drivers  and  shop-keepers 
are  universally  polite.  Coachmen  stop  a  rod  off  to 
let  you  cross  the  street. 

It  somewhat  vexes  me  to  hear  people  in  other 
places  talk  about  the  corruption  that  exists  in  Wash 
ington. 

There  is  a  lady  here  —  Miss  Miner  —  who  has  organ 
ized  and  established  a  school  for  colored  girls.  She 
is  a  very  energetic,  practical  woman  with  an  indomit 
able  will.  She  has  been  long  an  invalid. 


234     GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

She  came  to  see  me  recently,  when  I  remarked  how 
bright  her  eyes  were  and  how  abundant  her  hair. 
She  said  she  would  tell  me  the  secret  of  it.  It  is  too 
long  to  repeat,  but  she  has  a  firm  belief  that  an  intel 
ligence  higher  than  her  own  has  taken  her  in  hand, 
and  has  been  and  is  affecting  a  cure.  For  a  long 
time  her  hands,  without  any  will  of  her  own,  would 
beat  the  diseased  parts  of  her  body  severely  —  first 
spine,  then  liver,  head,  throat,  etc.,  daily  for  five 
hours.  Now,  it  only  begins  when  she  is  weary.  She 
is  sensible,  not  given  to  vagaries,  and  her  testimony 
would  be  admissible  in  any  court  of  justice.  It  is  one 
of  the  unexplained  facts  which  cluster  so  thickly 
around  us  in  these  latter  days,  and  in  the  midst  of 
which  we  blindly  grope  —  while  a  ray  of  light  seems 
now  and  then  to  gleam  athwart  the  darkness.  In  the 
course  of  time  and  the  progress  of  intelligence  I 
suppose  all  these  facts  will  be  properly  classed,  and 
be  showed  to  be  only  a  part  of  the  great  organism  of 
the  universe. 

I  must  tell  you  I  have  been  photographed  by  Brady. 
I  tried  three  times  and  have  got  an  excellent  picture 
at  last.  It  was  not  my  own  doings,  but  concocted  by 
Mr.  Wood  and  Mrs.  Bailey.  Mr.  Curtis  has  sent  for 
me  to  return  to  Hartford,  offering  me  four  hundred 
dollars  to  teach  half  a  day,  but  I  do  not  intend  to  go 
at  present. 

May  21.  I  received  last  Sunday  a  letter  from  Mr. 
Richardson,  saying:  '•!  have  the  honor  to  enclose  to 
your  address  the  within  notes  from  Mr.  D.  S.  Ford, 
one  of  the  editors  and  publishers  of  the  '  Youth's 
Companion,'  and  also  of  the  '  Watchman '  and 
'  Reflector.'  I  beg  leave  to  assure  you  that  we  have 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON  235 

not  had  the  temerity  even  to  hint  to  him  who  or  where 
you  are,  considering  ourselves  under  a  solemn  injunc 
tion  to  keep  the  secret  committed  to  our  trust.  Per 
mit  me  to  add  my  impression  that  you  might  find  a 
connection  with  the  '  Companion  '  pleasant,  and  that 
you  might  obtain  fair  compensation.  In  justice  to 
the  '  Congregationalists '  I  must  express  the  hope  that 
you  will  make  no  connection  with  any  other  paper 
that  will  seriously  interfere  with  your  writing  fre 
quently  for  us.  Are  you  expecting  to  be  in  Wash 
ington  again  next  winter?  If  so,  you  can  calculate 
on  sending  us  some  more  letters  if  agreeable  to  your 
self,"  etc. 

The  within  notes  were  : 

No.   1. 

FRIEND  "CONGREGATIONALISTS":  As  you  make  the 
best  paper  in  Boston  —  of  course  after  "  ours  "  —  I  am  de 
sirous  to  appropriate  some  of  your  excellencies.  May  I  ? 
Be  clever  now  and  tell  me  who  Gail  Hamilton  is,  and 
whether  I  can  get  him  or  her  (whichever  gender  the 
name  belongs  to)  to  write  for  the  "  Companion."  If  you 
do  not  object  to  granting  this  favor  please  tell  me  how 
much  you  give  a  column  for  the  articles  of  this  writer. 

Yours  very  fraternally, 
FORD. 

No.  2. 

DEAR  SIR  :  Be  good  enough  to  ask  modest  Gail  whether 
it  will  be  agreeable  for  him  (or  her)  to  write  for  the 
"Companion."  If  agreeable,  be  kind  enough  also  to 
inquire  what  we  must  pay  Gail  for  that  privilege.  So 
retiring  a  person  I  trust  will  not  come  down  very  heavily 
for  the  tin.  Is  it  possible  that  there  is  one  writer,  espe 
cially  for  youth,  who  is  fearful  of  notoriety?  etc.,  etc. 

There  are  several  comments  which  I  should  make 


236     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

on  these  notes  if  you  were  within  hearing,  but  as  you 
are  not,  I  will  give  you  the  simple  text  and  you  may 
draw  your  own  conclusion.  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Richard 
son  on  Monday,  telling  him  to  tell  that  Ford  that  as 
I  had  as  yet  got  only  fnr-off  glimpses  of  the  Di'leo ta 
ble  Mountains,  I  had  not  set  any  pi-ice  on  my  iniqui 
ties,  but  he  might  tell  me  what  my  articles  were  worth 
to  him,  and  if  I  chose  to  write 

—  I  would 
Ho  might  depend  on't 

If  I  won't,  I  won't 
And  there's  an  end  on't. 

Whether  Mr.  Ford  will  be  able  fully  to  understand 
my  message  remains  to  be  seen.  Tuesday  Dr.  Bailey 
sent  me  up  six  books  to  notice.  You  will  see  what 
they  were  in  the  paper.  As  I  keep  nearly  all  the 
books  I  notice  I  have  quite  an  acquisition  to  my 
library.  It  is  a  rather  easy  way  of  getting  books. 
The  Dr.  is  to  leave  next  Thursday.  The  present 
war  may  have  some  effect  on  his  future  movements. 
It  may  prevent  his  going  to  Italy,  though  again  it 
may  be  over  before  he  gets  there.  I  hope  you  will 
read  up  on  it  and  not  wait  till  it  gets  to  be  history, 
for  then  you  certainly  never  will  know.  If  you  see 
a  crocodile  served  up  a  week  or  two  hence  you  will 
know  where  it  came  from.  Tell  Maria  it  is  necessary 
to  throw  in  judicious  moral  reflections  in  order  to 
appease  the  populace,  who  won't  eat  a  crocodile  with 
out  condiments.  I'm  sorry  you  did  not  like  "  The 
Stilts,"  but  you  mustn't  expect  the  best  of  everything 
even  from  my  pen.  I  shall  have  to  set  Mr.  Ford's 
application  against  your  disapprobation. 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON  237 

MAY  28. 

The  Dr.  and  Marcel  left  at  half-past  six.  About 
nine,  as  Mrs.  Bailey  was  "  clearin'  up,"  she  discovered 
their  passports  in  the  secretary  !  You  must  know, 
mother,  that  they  could  not  set  foot  in  France  without 
their  passports.  Accordingly  there  was  some  flying 
round  for  the  next  hour  or  two.  During  the  day  we 
had  three  telegraphic  despatches  from  the  Dr.  along 
the  road  telling  us  to  send  them  by  express.  We 
sent  letters  to  them,  and  expect  to  receive  one  this 
morning,  after  which  we  shall  not  hear  again  for  three 
weeks  or  more. 

In  the  evening,  to  cheer  the  somewhat  depressed 
circle,  I  brought  down  some  of  my  old  verses,  etc., 
and  read  them  aloud  to  the  company,  consisting  of 
Mr.  Wood  and  Mrs.  B.,  who  seemed  to  be  considera 
bly  entertained. 

Monday,  A.M.  We  have  received  two  letters  from 
the  Dr.  He  bore  the  journey  well  —  said  he  had 
walked  more  at  the  stations  along  the  road  than  he 
had  done  at  home  in  a  month.  They  were  to  set  sail 
at  twelve  o'clock,  Saturday,  in  the  "  Argo."  Mr.  W. 
Frank  and  I  went  to  the  Navy  Yard  on  Saturday, 
but  there  was  no  ship,  so  we  only  surveyed  the  various 
operations  and  great  guns.  Mrs.  Dr.  Peter  Parker 
spent  the  evening  here  and  entertained  us  with  an 
account  of  some  of  her  Chinese  experiences. 

JUNE  1 1 . 

Monday,  after  supposing  myself  destitute  except  a 
three-cent  piece,  I  found  a  $2.50  gold  piece  in  one 
of  my  drawers,  with  which  I  was  very  much  delighted. 
Now,  mother,  if  I  had  been  careful  and  not  lost  that,  I 
never  should  have  had  the  pleasure  of  finding  it.  It 


238     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

is  the  second  one  I  have  found  in  that  way  when  I 
thought  I  had  no  money.  Moral:  Never  be  careful 
of  your  money. 

WASHINGTON,  June  18. 

I  have  taken  a  small  piece  of  paper  and  I  don't 
know  that  I  shall  fill  that  —  I  am  so  disgusted  at  the 
very  idea  of  writing  letters  —  bah !  Don't  expect 
another  one  from  me  at  present.  There  is  plenty  to 
write  about,  but  how  can  I  bring  myself  to  tell  it  all 
over  ?  I  won't,  so  there  !  I  received  your  letter  and 
mother's  yesterday. 

June  20.  After  the  above  spasm  I  laid  mv  pen 
down  exhausted  and  got  up  at  five  o'clock  this  morn 
ing  to  give  you  a  few  "  hitems."  Saturday,  June  11, 
I  sent  you  my  last  letter.  Professor  Marix  called 
and  stayed  nearly  an  hour  and  we  had  a  delightful 
talk.  I  do  like  to  talk  with  the  right  sort  of  people. 
Monda}r  I  walked  over  to  Miss  Miner's,  —  she  teaches 
the  colored  school,  —  and  when  I  got  home,  we  went 
to  a  sacred  concert  of  the  children  in  Trinity  Church. 

Dr.  Parker  was  in  in  the  evening.  Did  I  tell  you 
that  Mrs.  Parker,  after  nineteen  years  of  marriage, 
has  just  had  her  first  baby?  It  is  a  boy,  and  they 
are  both  in  raptures.  She  is  very  well. 

JUNE  23,  1859. 

MY  DEAK  MOTHER  :  You  have  probably  heard  by 
this  time  the  news  of  Dr.  Bailey's  death  on  board  the 
steamer  uArgo."  It  was  very  unexpected,  almost  as 
much  so  as  if  he  had  been  in  perfect  health.  We 
were  expecting  letters  by  the  "Persia"  that  evening. 
Mrs.  Bailey's  only  anxiety  had  been  lest  some  acci 
dent  should  happen  to  the  ship.  That  morning  she 


FIRST  YEAR  IN  WASHINGTON  239 

sent  down  for  the  morning  papers  to  see  if  the  "Argo" 
had  arrived  in  England.  She  saw  that  it  had  and, 
without  looking  any  farther,  threw  herself  on  the  bed, 
laughing  in  a  kind  of  rapture  of  joy.  Fanny  picked 
up  the  paper  and  read  the  next  paragraph,  which  an 
nounced  his  death.  Without  saying  anything  to  her 
mother  she  brought  the  paper  to  me.  I  heard  her 
moaning  in  the  utmost  distress  as  she  came  up  the 
stairs  and  ran  to  meet  her.  Her  face  was  so  white 
and  terrified  that  I  feared  the  worst.  The  paper  was 
all  crumpled  in  her  hand  and  she  could  only  cry  out, 
"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  She  told  me  that  her  mother 
did  not  know  it  and  I  must  tell  her.  I  thought  I 
could  not.  Maggie  came  crying  into  the  room  to 
know  what  was  the  matter,  and  I  heard  her  mother 
calling  on  the  stairs  and  I  knew  that  it  must  come,  so 
I  went  out  and  told  her.  Yesterday  was  a  terrible 
day.  I  was  with  her  all  day  and  last  night.  The 
doctor  gave  her  an  opiate  last  night  and  she  slept  a 
good  deal,  and  is  a  little  calmer  to-day.  The  blow 
was  the  heavier  coming  directly  after  the  sudden  joy 
on  his  supposed  safe  arrival.  "We  received  a  letter 
from  Marcel  last  evening.  He  says  his  father  grew 
gradually  weaker  from  the  time  the  steamer  left  New 
York  and  a  violent  cold  which  he  took  hastened  his 
end.  Every  comfort  was  afforded  him  and  his  last 
moments  were  calm  and  free  from  pain.  Some  time 
before  his  death  every  uneasy  expression  vanished 
from  his  face,  his  brow  cleared,  a  peaceful  and  happy 
look  came  on  him,  and  from  that  time  till  his  death 
there  was  no  pain,  but  he  seemed  to  be  perfectly  at 
rest.  His  whole  life  has  been  a  grand  application  of 
Christian  principles  to  the  affairs  of  life. 

This  will  change  my  plans  about  coming  home.     I 


240     GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

cannot  leave  Mrs.  Bailey  yet  —  not,  certainly,  till  after 
the  funeral.  Mother,  I  will  make  up  at  the  other  end 
of  the  vacation,  if  I  do  return,  what  I  lose  to  you  at 
this.  Every  one  is  very  kind  to  Mrs.  Bailey  and  to 
me.  I  have  been  writing  to  her  friends. 


VI 

LITERARY  PROGRESS 

1859-1860 


241 


VI 

LITERARY  PROGRESS 

1859-1860 

JULY  3. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  Perhaps  you  expected  a  letter 
from  me  before,  but  I  have  been  waiting  to  be  able  to 
give  you  definite  information  about  my  coming  home. 
You  must  look  out  in  the  papers  for  the  arrival  of  the 
"  Vauderbilt,"  and  expect  me  to  start  a  day  or  two 
after  that.  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  stay  one  day 
after  the  funeral,  because  I  witnessed  the  will  and  that 
will  have  to  be  probated  before  I  leave.  Capt.  Nay- 
lor  is  going  on  to  New  York  and  he  will  be  very  glad 
of  my  company.  He  is  one  of  my  friends.  You 
have  heard  me  speak  of  him.  He  served  in  the  Mex 
ican  war,  and  was  a  member  of  Congress  —  eccentric 
but  good,  and  good  company. 

Mother,  I  wish  you  would  meet  me  in  Boston  as  I 
first  proposed.  Affectionately, 

M.  A.  D. 

CAMPTON,  GRAFTON  Co.,  July  30,  1859. 
MY  DEAR  MOTHER  ;  You  will  see  by  the  date  that 
we  are  safely  here.     I  will  give  you  first  an  account 
of   my    adventures  in   Boston.     I  went  with  all  my 
bundles  secure  to  F's,  saw  him  a  little  while,  and  then 
243 


244    GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

proceeded  to  —  Dick's  — -  went  upstairs,  saw  a  tall, 
moustachioed  and  whiskered  young  man,  who  seemed 
to  be  somewhat  acquainted  there,  but  had  on  his  hat 
and  was  just  going  out.  I  stood  a  moment  and  then 
he  spoke  to  the  man  behind  the  screen  and  he  came 
out  and  I  said,  "  Is  Mr.  R.  in?"  and  he  said,  "  I  am 
Mr.  R.."  and  I  was  taken  aback,  as  he  was  about 
twenty  years  younger  looking  than  I  expected  to  see 
him.  I  stared,  and  he  said,  "Is  it  Miss  Dodge?'' 
and  I  said  "  Yes,"  and  he  asked  me  to  come  into  the 
other  room  and  sit  on  the  sofa,  and  I  went  and  couldn't 
think  of  a  thing  to  say,  nor  he  either,  and  then  he  in 
troduced  the  tall  man  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dexter,  and  I 
told  Mr.  Dexter  he  didn't  look  at  all  like  a  minister, 
and  he  said  he  didn't  have  his  clerical  suit  on,  and  he 
popped  himself  down  on  the  sofa  beside  me  and  we 
talked  and  laughed  and  I  showed  him  my  picture  and 
he  didn't  think  it  was  very  good  —  not  half  so  pretty 
as  I  was  !  and  said  Whipple  of  Boston  ought  to  have 
taken  one  of  me,  and  he  wished  I  would  go  over  and 
see  the  kind  of  picture  he  meant.  He  wanted  me  to 
be  photographed  there  right  away,  and  I  wouldn't  and 
couldn't,  and  Whipple  came  in  and  they  both  went  at 
me  and  I  said  I  wasn't  dressed  for  it  —  and  Mr.  D. 
said  he  didn't  care  for  the  dress  —  what  he  wanted 
was  my  face,  and  half  persuaded,  and  half  forced,  I 
finally  sat  three  times  !  Then  he  wanted  me  to  go  to 
Mt.  Auburn  with  him  and  his  wife  in  the  afternoon, 
and  I  said  I  would.  Mr.  D's  son,  of  eleven  years, 
came  out  to  Mt.  Auburn  in  the  cars.  We  walked 
around  the  grounds,  then  went  into  the  tower  and 
then  came  home.  He  says  he  thinks  I  must  have  been 
intended  to  be  his  sister.  He  never  had  any  sister. 
We  didn't  get  home  till  after  six. 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  245 

SEPTEMBER  25. 

I  remember  you  roasted  and  spitted  and  basted 
and  carved  me  about  Mrs.  R.,  because  I  didn't  an 
swer  her  note,  and  because  I  said  she  was  splendid, 
and  I  did  answer  her  note,  and  she  is  splendid, 
whether  New  England  is  a  province  or  a  Cosmos. 
Splendid  means  brilliant,  sparkling,  shining,  and  the 
boy's  story,  and  the  girl's  story,  and  the  toad  under 
the  rock  are  just  that,  bless  you!  And  she  didn't 
write  any  either.  She  only  scrawled  a  scratch  with  a 
lead  pencil  on  a  torn  leaf  of  something,  just  because 
you  had  "  egged"  her  on  till  life  was  a  burden  to  her, 
and  she  took  revenge  by  just  saying  that  she  had  been 
a  long  time  hesitating  whether  it  was  worth  while  to 
attack  me,  and  finally  concluded  it  wouldn't  pay.  Do 
you  think  I  was  going  to  get  up  an  alliance,  offensive 
and  defensive,  on  that?  Now  you  be  civil,  or  I  will 
just  write  a  note  to  Mrs.  R.  and  tell  her  that  you 
called  her  a  lizard. 

Send  on  that  "  Little  Pilgrim !  "     Quick ! 

Now  see  here,  cotton-lipped  Oleander,  as  the  old 
man  on  the  wood-pile  said  to  the  negro-woman  contra- 
banders  below — "I  ain't  rich,  but  I'm  generous." 
I  don't  wish  you  ever  to  say  anything  about  paying 
me.  When  you  want  me  to  write  a  story,  you  say  so, 
and  when  you  have  more  money  than  you  know  what 
to  do  with,  give  me  some  of  it ;  but  don't  ever  not 
ask  me  to  write  because  you  have  nothing  to  pay 
with,  and  above  all  things  and  especially,  don't  ever 
suffer  yourself  to  be  annoyed  by  the  shadow  of  an 
idea  that  you  owe  me  anything  but  the  most  heartfelt 
devotion,  and  that  you  will  never  pay,  and  so  I  call 
it  a  bad  debt  and  put  it  out  of  the  inventory. 

I  went  to  see  Whittier  the  other  day.     He  told  me 


246    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

a  shabby  turn  which  somebody  had  done  you,  offi 
cially.  May  he  come  to  grief !  Whittier  talked  about 
Grace,  too.  Isn't  Whittier  irresistible?  Isn't  the 
Merrimac  peerless  ?  Don't  talk  about  the  Arno  and 
the  Rhine.  They're  no  better  than  the  Merrimac,  and 
I  don't  believe  there  are  any  such  rivers,  either.  Isn't 
Whittier  even  sweet?  Isn't  their  Charles  and  Mary 
Lambness  a  perpetual  poem  ? 

Grace,  you  are  coming  to  Lynn.  Hamilton  is  only 
a  matter  of  fifty  cents  or  so,  from  I^-nn.  If  society 
gets  to  be  a  "boah,"  and  you  want  to  lie  on  a  sofa, 
and  see  nobody,  and  do  nothing,  and  rest,  and  speak 
once  in  about  three  hours,  why  then  Hamilton  is  just 
the  place  for  you.  Never  mind  the  loss  of  money. 
Money  is  nothing  but  metal.  This  world  is  all  a  fleet 
ing  show,  though  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  most 
of  even  that  is  made  by  money. 

I  can't  tell  whether  this  story  is  anything  or  isn't, 
or  what  it  is.  I've  just  made  it  up  as  I  went  along — 
out  of  nothing,  and  very  likely  I  have  boggled  over  it, 
but  what  business  have  you  to  make  me  write  a  story 
late  into  Saturday  night,  when  I  want  to  be  knitting  a 
mitten  for  the  soldiers,  tell  Annie,  Grace,  —  with  red, 
white  and  blue  in  it,  —  which  I  don't  believe  she  has  in 
her  stocking. 

BOSTON,  MASS.,  October  5,  1859. 
I  am  thus  far  on  my  way  to  Washington.  I  am 
also  writing  in  an  Editor's  sanctum,  in  an  Editor's 
chair,  on  an  Editor's  desk,  with  an  Editor's  pen,  by 
an  Editor's  ink,  on  an  Editor's  paper,  and  don't  I 
feel  awed  ?  That's  the  reason  why  I  am  graver  than 
usual. 


LITERARY   PROGRESS  247 

WASHINGTON,  D.C.,  October  9,  1859. 
MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  You  see  I  am  safely  here,  so  I 
will  begin  with  you  where  I  left  off.  After  leaving 
my  trunk  at  the  Worcester  depot,  I  went  up  to  the 
"  Congregationalist "  office  and  asked  Mr.  Green  if  I 
could  rent  the  office  a  little  while  as  I  wanted  to  finish 
a  piece  and  write  a  letter.  He  put  me  at  once  into 
Mr.  Dexter's  part  of  it,  and  furnished  me  with  writing 
materials,  and  I  stayed  quietly  till  I  had  finished  oper 
ations,  calling  out  to  him  once  in  a  while  when  I 
thought  of  anything  I  wanted  to  say.  He  told  me 
the  way  he  suspected  me  the  first  time  I  was  there  was 
because  I  looked  like  my  sister  in  Cambridge  —  also 
he  read  a  letter  from  his  sister  speaking  of  Gail  Ham 
ilton  and  his  power  to  interest  children.  Dea.  James 
was  introduced  to  me,  and  I  had  some  conversation 
with  him.  I  took  the  horse-cars  to  Cambridge.  I  felt 
really  miserable  in  the  evening,  and  took  some  wine 
the  last  thing  before  going  to  bed,  and  also  in  the 
morning  before  I  went  away.  I  think  it  was  nothing 
but  the  excitement  and  want  of  sleep.  Felt  carried 
me  over  to  Boston  the  next  morning,  and  went  with 
me  as  far  as  the  first  stopping-place,  and  there  I  will 
stop  my  letter,  too.  I  want  to  send  this  by  the  first 
mail.  It  will  serve  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  here 
and  well,  at  last.  Good  morning, 

Affectionately, 

ABBY. 

OctOBER  10. 

MY  DEAR  FAMILY  :  I  will  continue  my  narration.  I 
had  a  really  delightful  ride  to  Meriden.  The  cars 
were  very  clean,  very  easy,  and  I  had  four  seats  to 
myself.  The  rest  was  just  the  thing  for  me.  I  had 


248     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

as  pleasant  a  visit  at  Abby's  as  I  could  under  the  cir 
cumstances,  but  I  was  not  at  all  well.  I  had  no  appe 
tite,  and  was  only  fit  to  go  to  bed  —  though  I  did  not 
till  the  proper  time.  A  little  after  one  I  left  for 
N.Y.,  and  arrived  there  safely  before  sunset.  I  fol 
lowed  the  crowd  and  saw  a  horse-car  marked  '%  27th 
St.  and  Astor  House  "  —  so  I  got  into  that  and  told 
the  conductor  to  let  me  out  at  the  Astor  House,  as  I 
did  not  know  where  it  was.  It  was  the  end  of  the 
route.  He  told  me  where  to  find  the  private  entrance 
—  the  porter  showed  me  into  the  parlor,  and  presently 
Mr.  S.  entered,  looking  around,  and  I  rose  and  he 
said,  'v  Miss  Dodge?  "and  I  said,  "Mr.  Stetson?" 
Then  I  told  him  that  I  w;is  travelling  from  Hamilton, 
Massachusetts,  to  Washington,  and  unexpectedly 
found  myself  obliged  to  remain  in  N.Y.  over  night, 
and  so  I  had  thrown  myself  on  him  in  hope  of  not  be 
ing  torn  in  pieces  by  wild  beasts,  etc.,  etc.  "  Ham 
ilton?  What!  Essex  County?"  Yes,  sir.  Why, 
he  used  to  be  there  himself.  It  was  the  best  place  to 
live  in  he  ever  saw.  He  would  be  glad  to  go  there 
now.  Did  I  live  in  Backside  or  Foreside  ?  What  was 
my  name?  What  was  my  father's  name?  He  used 
to  know  Dodges.  AVell,  he  said  I  needn't  be  in  the 
least  afraid.  Everything  went  on  there  just  like 
home,  etc.,  and  he  gave  me  his  arm  and  went  with  me 
to  look  up  my  trunks,  and  sent  a  porter  for  the  house 
keeper,  etc  ,  etc.,  and  everything  went  off  very  well, 
just  as  well  as  if  I  had  had  twenty  men  about  me.  I 
had  breakfast  at  six  and  left  in  the  cars  at  seven. 
Nothing  in  particular  happened  till  I  got  to  Baltimore. 
There  it  began  to  rain,  and  a  very  severe  thunder 
shower.  We  had  to  change  cars  there  and  ride 
through  the  city  in  horse-cars.  It  rained  a  little  when 


LITERARY   PROGRESS  249 

I  got  in.  The  car  was  crowded  full,  and  squeezed  in 
among  the  rest,  sat  the  Rev.  Mr.  Spalding  of  New- 
buryport !  Of  course  there  was  something  of  an  ex 
clamation  on  both  sides.  He  had  been  on  to  the 
meeting  of  the  A.  B.  C.  F.  M.,  and  was  going  to 
Washington  to  see  the  sights.  It  was  right  pleasant 
to  see  and  talk  with  him.  At  Washington  Marcel 
and  Mr.  Wood  met  us.  Mr.  W.,  Mr.  S.,  and  I  got 
into  a  carriage  and  waited  some  twenty  minutes  for 
my  trunk  to  be  got  out  and  put  on,  and  then  we 
drove  home.  Of  course  it  gave  the  two  a  fine  chance 
to  get  acquainted,  of  which  I  was  very  glad,  as  I  had 
been  offering  Mr.  W.  to  Mr.  S.  as  guide.  I  found 

O  O 

Mrs.  Bailey  and  the  children  well.  The  former  in  as 
good  spirits  as  I  expected.  I  did  not  sleep  much  that 
night  and  had  a  renewal  of  my  attack  in  the  morning, 
but  am  now  well.  Have  recovered  my  appetite  and 
strength.  If  things  go  well  here  it  seems  as  if  we 
might  be  very  comfortable.  Mrs.  B.  speaks  encour 
agingly  of  the  paper,  but  I  have  not  much  faith  in  it. 
Mi's.  B.  said  that  Mr.  AVood  brought  with  him  such  a 
pleasant  impression  of  my  mother  !  Good  morning. 

Affectionately  yours, 

ABBY. 

WASHINGTON,  1859. 

Mr.  Derby's  letter  contained  a  letter  which  he  had 
received  from  Miss  Evans  of  Mobile,  the  authoress  of 
"  Beulah,"  a  book  which  you  remember  I  reviewed  in 
the  "  Era  "  a  while  ago.  She  says  "  The  review  in  the 
'  National  Era '  is  an  extremely  well- written,  humor 
ous,  caustic  article.  You  write  that  it  was  written  by  a 
young  lady  whose  name  I  could  not  clearly  decipher. 
Ah,  dear  Mr.  Derby,  are  you  quizzing  me  or  are  you 


250     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN    LETTERS 

quizzed?  Don't  you  know  Henry  Ward  Beech* T  and 
Henry  Ward  Beecher  only  wrote  it?  Why,  sir,  I  see 
Beecher  in  every  line,  from  '  Crockett's  coon '  to  the 
'  hard,  green  apples.'  It  is  admirably  written  and 
I  have  really  enjoyed  it  —  laughed  heartily  —  so  did 
pa.  You  probably  know  very  well  that  the  '  Era  '  is  an 
abolition  sheet  and  you  may  be  sure  Beecher  contrib 
uted  the  article.  Limited  as  is  my  acquaintance  with 
him,  I  can  detect  some  of  his  pet  phrases."  He  said 
that  when  he  read  my  "Beulah"  notice  he  said  to 
friends,  "  Why  that  was  just  the  view  Beecher  took  of 
it."  He  also  sent  me  Mr.  Beecher's  autograph,  and 
reiterates  his  belief  that  "•  You  could  do  something 
handsome  with  a  book  if  you  only  try.  I  mean  in 
writing  a  book,  for  you  are  smart,  if  I  have  to  say  it." 
I  have  had  two  letters  from  Mr.  Richardson  this 
week  hurrying  me  up  about  my  letters,  which  he  wants 
begun  right  off.  He  also  says  in  the  first  letter 
"Don't  you  find  time  to  write  more  for  us?  Remem 
ber,  you  haven't  sent  an  article  for  the^rs^  page  yet, 
notwithstanding  your  fair  promises  !  but  undoubtedly 
you  have  a  first-rate  excuse,  but  seriously  we  should 
like  more  '  copy'  from  you."  In  the  second  he  closes 
with  "  more  copy."  I  will  send  you  a  copy  of  the  "  S. 
&  S."  with  a  story  of  mine  in  it.  Look  at  the  pictures 
and  see  if  you  think  "  Bekkie  "  would  recognize  her 
self.  The  girls  are  too  old  for  the  story,  but  he  says 
they  had  to  take  such  pictures  as  they  could  get, 
as  they  hadn't  time  to  get  new  ones  made.  Send  it 
to  mother  when  you  have  read  it.  They  have  a 
Christmas  story  of  mine  for  that  also,  and  one  for  the 
February  number.  The  notices  of  "  Sword  and 
Gown,"  Saxe's  Poems,  and  the  "Nat.  Philosophy"  in 
the  last  "Era  "  were  mine.  I  shall  have  no  letter  next 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  251 

week,  but  a  rhyming  one  the  week  after.  I  saw  a 
piece  of  calico  that  I  thought  was  remarkably  pretty, 
went  in  to  get  enough  for  a  clothes-bag.  It  was  only 
ten  cents,  so  I  bought  enough  for  a  dress.  It  is  right 
pretty.  Mr.  Love  joy  told  me  he  had  written  a  poet 
ical  agricultural  address.  I  said  I  wouldn't  believe  it 
till  I  saw  it.  "Didn't  I  know  he  was  a  poet?"  "I 
thought  his  face  looked  like  one  —  '  sicklied  o'er  with 
the  pale  cast  of  thought'  (you  know  he  is  big,  brown, 
and  burly),  but  I  considered  his  forte  to  be  letter- 
writing  !  "  I  laughed  at  him  about  the  letter  he  wrote 
to  me  last  summer. 

I  have  written  to  Mr.  Derby  to-day.  He  has  sent  me 
a  package  of  five  new  books  :  Chateaubriand,  Voltaire, 
Pascal,  and  the  "Fool  of  Quality,"  in  two  volumes. 
I  made  matters  square  with  him  some  time  ago.  1 
told  him  I  swept  off  my  old  friends  with  the  old  year 
and  began  the  new  with  a  clean  record,  that  the  snake 
sloughed  off  his  old  skin  before  he  put  on  his  new, 
and  that  I  could  not  have  successive  layers  of  friend 
ships  any  more  than  the  snake  could  successive  layers 
of  skin  —  that  if  I  didn't  adopt  some  such  purgative 
process  I  should  have  a  congestion  of  the  heart  from 
a  plethora  of  lovers  —  that  I  treated  men  and  women 
just  as  I  did  oranges,  suck  all  the  juice  out  and  then 
throw  'em  away  —  that  I  believed  in  a  rotation  of 
crops  morally  and  mentally  as  well  as  physically  — 
that  when  you've  taken  the  measure  of  a  man,  have 
sounded  and  fathomed  him,  and  know  that  you  can't 
wade  in  him  more  than  ankle  deep  —  when  you've  got 
out  of  him  all  your  soul  needs,  what  is  the  next  thing 
to  be  done?  Why,  let  him  go.  Do  as  the  tick  does, 
gorge  yourself  and  then  drop  off.  "Now,"  I  said, 
"if  YOU  want  a  friend  for  just  as  long  as  she  feels 


252    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

like  it,  a  fair  weather,  skin-deep,  April-shower  friend, 
why,  I'm  your  man.  I'll  laugh  and  talk  with  you  as 
long  as  it  suits  my  humor  and  you  are  happy  and 
prosperous,  but  when  the  clouds  come,  and  the  drops 
patter,  and  the  winds  blow,  I'll  stretch  my  wings  and 
fly  off."  Isn't  that  fair?  But  "oh!"  he  replied, 
"  won't  I  keep  out  of  your  net ! " 

DECEMBER  12. 

I  was  at  Congress  every  day  last  week,  and  of 
course  it  takes  a  large  slice  from  my  day.  When  they 
get  a  Speaker  I  shall  not  attend  quite  so  closely.  Mr. 
Burliugame  with  two  other  Members  has  taken  a  house 
on  our  street.  My  book,  I  hope,  will  not  come  out 
this  season.  I  went  upon  the  Senate  floor  after  it 
adjourned  and  saw  Preston  King. 

I  saw  Mr.  Corwin  (Hon.  Tom)  in  the  evening  as 
I  was  going  out  —  told  him  I  didn't  suppose  he  remem 
bered  me,  but  I  remembered  him.  He  said  he  should 
have  remembered  me  twenty-five  years  ago.  I  only 
saw  him  on  a  visit  here  last  year.  He  was  not  in 
Congress ;  then  Mr.  Clepham  joined  me  in  Congress 
and  came  home  with  me. 

DECEMBER  21. 

Wednesday  I  went  to  the  Senate  to  hear  Mr. 
Wade  of  Ohio.  Right  brave  words  he  spoke,  too. 
Mr.  Fogg  came  and  sat  behind  me  and  gave  me  the 
benefit  of  his  comments.  After  Mr.  Wade  was 
through  we  went  into  the  House  to  see  what  they 
were  doing,  and  stayed  through  one  ballot,  but  it 
didn't  look  as  if  they  were  going  to  elect  a  Speaker, 
and  we  went  home  at  the  beginning  of  what  promised 
to  be  a  long  speech.  I  took  my  knitting-work  up  to 


LITERARY   PROGRESS  253 

the  Senate  yesterday  and  did  a  good  long  piece 
—  whereat  Mr.  Hale  was  greatly  disgusted  and 
begged  I  wouldn't  do  it  again.  Thursday  Capt. 
Naylor  joined  me  in  the  House  and  introduced  a 
Mr.  Mitchell,  of  St.  Louis.  He-  is  a  man  who  has 
been  spoken  of  to  take  the  "Era  "  — fine  talents,  simple 
in  manners.  He  stayed  till  we  went  home.  Capt. 
Naylor  was  here  in  the  evening,  told  the  people  that 
my  running  comments  on  the  speakers  ought  to  be 
published  in  the  "  Globe  "  in  parallel  columns  with  the 
reports  of  the  speeches.  Said  he  saw  Mr.  Mitchell 
afterwards  and  he  was  quite  charmed  with  —  me ! 
Said  "  What  a  sprightly  little  girl  that  is  !  I  haven't 
met  anybody  so  witty  for  years !  "  I  don't  suppose 
he  did  say  so,  but  Capt.  Naylor  said  he  did,  and 
Capt.  N.  always  speaks  the  truth.  Sunday  morning 
Mr.  Lovejoy  came  and  wanted  me  to  go  to  church 
with  him,  so  I  took  him  with  me  to  Dr.  Butler's,  but 
he  kept  whispering  comments  which  I  was  afraid  peo 
ple  would  hear,  till  I  told  him  I  never  would  take 
him  to  church  with  me  again  if  he  didn't  behave. 
After  we  got  out  I  told  him  I  didn't  know  how  he 
felt,  but  I  certainly  had  a  sense  of  relief. 

DECEMBER  19. 

At  one  o'clock,  we  went  to  the  House.  A  South 
erner  was  blustering  away,  and  then  they  went  to 
voting.  Presently  I  got  into  conversation  with  a 
lady  who  sat  next  me.  I  scolded  considerably  about 
two  Members,  who  were  making  jackasses  of  them 
selves,  and  presently  discovered  that  she  was  a  wife  of 
some  Member.  I  told  her  that  if  she  wasn't  the  wife 
of  either  of  those  I  didn't  care.  She  seemed  a  good 
deal  amused  at  my  remarks,  and  presently  said  there 


254     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

was  a  little  girl  over  there  who  wanted  to  come  and 
sit  next  me.  So  a  little  girl  crowded  past  the  two 
ladies  who  were  in  company.  I  said  to  her  "  Why, 
I  don't  know  you,  do  you  know  me  ?  "  She  said  she 
didn't  know  me,  but  she  had  read  my  stories.  Of 
course  I  was  a  little  taken  back.  I  asked  her  where. 
She  said  "In  the  '  Little  Pilgrim.'"  How  did  she 
know  they  were  mine?  Father  told  her.  Her  name 
was  Anna  Dawes  and  she  was  eight  years  old.  Her 
father  is  a  Member.  I  remember  seeing  him  here 
last  winter.  I  think  the  two  women  were  Mrs. 
Bufflnton  and  Gooch,  who  have  taken  a  house  on  C 
St.  I  thought  Mr.  Burlingame  was  going  there,  but 
he  is  at  the  National.  Mr.  Lovojoy  sent  up  one  of 
the  pages  to  me  in  the  gallery  with  a  package  of 
franked  envelopes,  one  of  which  I  shall  send  to  you. 
Tuesday,  Frank,  Fanny,  and  I  went  to  the  House 
again.  You  see  I  want  to  be  there  when  a  Speaker 
is  elected  and  see  the  ceremony  of  inauguration,  so  I 
do  not  lose  a  day.  In  the  evening  Mr.  De  Naise 
was  here.  He  has  just  returned  from  his  foreign  trip. 
You  know  he  and  the  Dr.  were  to  go  together.  Mr. 
De  Naise  was  going  home  to  a  family  gathering  in 
Constantinople  (Turkey).  He  was  present  at  the 
battle  of  Solferino  —  has  talked  with  Garibaldi  — 
was  so  near  as  to  hear  the  balls  whistling  about  him. 

I  received  your  letter,  mother,  Saturday  morning. 
As  to  danger,  you  need  not  be  alarmed.  I  don't  ap 
prehend  any.  There  is  too  much  bark  to  have  very 
much  bite. 

"Tom"  is  Mr.  Tom  Corwin,  a  man  famed  for  his 
wit.  He  was  a  Member  of  the  House  some  twenty 
years  ago,  and  has  now  been  returned  again.  He 
has  been,  I  believe,  Governor  of  Ohio  and  a  mem- 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  255 

ber  of  the  President's  Cabinet.  Mr.  Sumner  is  back 
here,  but  I  don't  believe  they  will  touch  him  again. 
I  believe  he  has  gone  to  Boston  now  to  remain  over 
the  holidays.  He  is  tall  and  quite  handsome.  I  saw 
Mr.  Grow  at  the  House  the  other  day.  He  used  to 
be  at  our  house  last  winter. 

Yesterday  I  went  to  church,  at  ours  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  at  Mr.  Wood's  in  the  evening.  Our  church 
was  beautifully  dressed.  All  the  pillars  and  posts 
were  twined  with  evergreens  and  all  along  the  galler 
ies  were  hung  gilt  stars,  crosses,  etc.,  wreathed  with 
evergreen.  A  magnificent  bouquet  was  on  the  read 
ing-table.  We  had  a  fine  sermon  from  Dr.  Butler,  a 
very  full  house  to  hear  it.  A  so-so-ish  one  from  Mr. 
K.  in  the  evening.  I  don't  think  I  shall  go  to  church 
any  more  in  the  evening.  I  am  going  to  stay  at 
home  and  read  the  Bible  with  notes  and  maps,  and 
Neander's  "  Church  History."  I  think  it  will  be  more 
profitable  to  me  than  preaching. 

DECEMBER  28. 

In  token  of  my  respect  for  your  character,  my 
esteem  for  your  virtues,  and  my  love  for  yourself,  I 
enclose  in  this  letter,  with  my  best  wishes  for  the  new 
year,  a  collar  which  I  have  made  for  you.  I  want 
you  to  take  notice  that  the  lace  of  this  collar  is  real 
Valenciennes  and  cost  —  a  small  fortune  —  more  than 
I  could  afford  —  the  broad  lace  was  given  me  by  Mr. 
Wood  to  make  a  collar  for  myself  —  the  rest,  by 
Mrs.  Bailey.  So,  you  see,  it  didn't  cost  me  a  cent ! 
only  the  making.  As  Mr.  Wood  announced  to  me 
his  intention  of  giving  away  one  of  the  purses  I  gave 
him,  I  announced  my  intention  of  giving  away  this 
collar  to  vou.  He  was  rather  gratified  and  said  he 


256     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

should  feel  as  if  he  had  an  interest  in  it.     I  was  going 
to  get  you  a  ring,  but  I  am  so  wretchedly  poor. 

Mr.  Burlingame  walked  home  with  me  —  told  me 
about  his  buffalo  hunt  in  Kansas.  They  couldn't  get 
horse,  and  found  they  must  hunt  on  foot,  or  go  back 
without  any  hunt.  As  that  was  what  they  came  for, 
he  concluded  to  go  on  foot.  The  danger  is  that  if 
you  wound  a  buffalo  anywhere  but  in  the  vital  part, 
he  is  sure  to  turn  upon  you  —  the  vital  part  is  about 
the  size  of  a  turkey  —  and  they  went  out  on  the  open 
plain,  without  the  shelter  of  a  tree,  and  shot.  He 
says  it  was  the  rashest  thing  he  ever  did,  and  he  was 
a  fool  for  doing  it,  and  would  not  do  it  again.  Their 
lives  depended  on  their  shooting  straight.  He  and 
another  man  always  aimed  at  the  same  buffalo  and 
they  never  missed.  Of  the  nine  that  were  killed,  they 
killed  seven.  Mr.  Lovejoy  is  quite  lame.  Has  to 
ride  to  and  from  the  Capitol.  One  of  the  ministers 
at  his  boarding-place  asked  him  what  the  matter 
was,  and  he  told  him  it  was  his  dislike  of  pro-slavery 
ministers  struck  in. 

[To  LEANDER  K.  LIPPINCOTT,  AND  GRACE  HIS  WIFE.] 

WASHINGTON,   1859. 

1  received  this  morning  a  book  called  "  Old  Wonder 
Eyes,"  purporting  to  have  been  written  by  the  distin 
guished  individuals  to  whom  I  have  the  honor  of 
addressing  this  letter.  I  have  my  suspicious  as  to 
the  truth  of  this  statement.  In  the  first  place,  I 
don't  believe  the  male  Greenwood  can  write  such  a 
charming  sketch  as  "Old  Horace,"  or  as  "  My  First 
Day  in  Trousers."  In  the  second  place,  I  don't 
believe  he  would  if  he  could.  In  the  third  place 


LITERARY   PROGRESS  257 

(my  dear  Grace,  this  is  for  your  private  ear),  if  he 
did  write  the  ones  I  have  attributed  to  him,  the  rascal 
has  done  better  than  you  or  I,  either.  Really  the 
book  is  a  very  sweet  one,  and  I  only  wish  I  had  ten 
small  children  that  I  might  give  a  copy  to  each  one. 
I  have  not  read  all  the  stories,  and  I  dare  say  those 
I  have  not  read  are  very  mean  ones.  Your  sugges 
tion  that  the  Dorians  might  have  brought  grapes  from 
Cyprus,  and  have  made  them  into  wine  at  home,  is  a 
very  good  one,  and  I  shall  use  it  if  I  am  ever  assailed, 
but  that  it  was  made  at  the  table  is  not  a  tenable 
position,  since,  if  my  classics  is  not  very  much  mis 
taken,  the  young  ladies  of  Doris  did  not  "  assist  "  at 
the  banquets  of  the  gentlemen. 

Your  god  "  takes  the  little  children  under  his  own 
peculiar  care  and  does  not  wait  to  have  them  commit 
ted  to  him  by  miserable  adult  sinners."  Now  if  there 
is  any  bigotry  that  is  contemptible,  it  is  the  bigotry 
of  your  self-styled  liberals.  A  good  old  Puritan  of 
the  straightest  sect  is  bigoted,  honestly,  conscien 
tiously,  because  he  never  thought  of  the  thing ;  hasn't 
the  slightest  idea  what  bigotry  is  ;  but  you  who  pre 
tend  to  a  more  catholic  religion,  and  broader  views, 
you  swing  to  the  other  extreme  and  are  just  as  narrow 
and  just  as  canty,  with  this  difference,  that  you  pre 
tend  to  be  wise  above  others. 

What  do  you  mean?  Are  we  to  ask  God  to  do 
nothing  which  He  does  of  His  own  will.  He  gives 
food  to  the  just  and  the  unjust,  yet  He  has  com 
manded  us  to  pray — Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread.  This  whole  matter  of  prayer  is  beyond  the 
sweep  of  my  mind  and  of  yours.  It  is  enough  for 
us  to  know  that  God  has  commanded  it.  A  very  lit 
tle  reflection  will  enable  us  to  understand,  partially  at 


258     GAIL  HAM  ELTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

least,  the  reason  of  this  command,  but  our  under 
standing  does  not  affect  our  duty,  nor  does  duty 
prevent  its  being  a  pleasure. 

Am  I  going  to  spend  a  year  in  this  —  ?  Of  course 
I  am.  Where  did  you  suppose  I  was  going  to  spend 
it?  Did  you  think  the  President  was  going  to  offer 
me  a  room  in  the  White  House,  or  that  the  man  in 
the  moon  was  to  pop  the  question,  or  that  I  should 
make  an  immense  fortune  by  writing  for  the  "  Era," 
and  set  up  housekeeping  on  my  own  account?  When 
any  of  these  things  happen  I  shall  probably  rest  on 
my  lees.  Till  then  I  shall  meet  life  with  what  strength 
I  may,  nor  expect  to  find  it  a  bed  of  roses. 

JANUARY  2,  1860. 

I  think  Mrs.  Bailey  will  not  keep  the  "Era "a 
great  while.  It  is  hoped  that  she  will  presently  be 
able  to  sell  it  advantageously,  as  the  care  upon  her 
is  altogether  too  much.  I  don't  think  I  shall  write 
much  more  for  it.  At  present  I  write  more  for  the 
"  Cougregationalist "  than  for  the  "Era."  They 
have  a  Cunctare  letter  from  me  every  week,  beside 
occasional  pieces. 

As  to  H.  W.  Beecher,  I  don't  think  he  is  a  noto 
riety  seeker.  He  has  faults.  He  often  offends  my 
taste.  He  is  not  always  reliable.  He  is  full  of 
crotchets,  but  I  think  him  an  earnest,  hearty  Chris 
tian,  one  that  is  doing  a  work  that  nobody  but  him 
can  do.  He  seems  to  me  to  be  reaching  hearts  that 
no  one  else  can  reach,  and  I  think  if  some  of  our 
D.D.'s  would  let  him  alone  and  look  to  their  own 
flocks  and  herds  they  would  be  better  off  themselves 
and  do  more  good  in  the  world.  As  to  his  creed,  you 
know  Congregationalists  have  no  church,  but  churches. 


LITERARY   PROGRESS  259 

Each  one  is  a  separate  body  and  has  its  own  covenant 
and  believes  what  commends  itself  to  its  own  judg 
ment.  I  presume  the  fundamental  doctrines  of 
Congregational  churches  generally  receive  Beccher's 
support.  I  read  some  views  in  a  late  sermon  of  his 
upon  Christ's  personality,  which  I,  for  one,  don't 
accept.  They  don't  accord  with  my  opinions,  but 
they  don't  alter  my  opinion  of  Beecher. 

Mr.  Derby  is  of  the  firm  of  Derby  &  Jackson, 
New  York  book  publishers,  and  they  published 
"  Beulah,"  "  Future  Life,"  etc.  Mr.  Wood  gave  him 
a  letter  of  introduction  last  summer,  and  we  have 
kept  up  a  correspondence  ever  since,  though  we  have 
never  met.  He  says  he  is  coming  to  "Washington 
this  winter,  though  I  assured  him  he  should  not  see 
me  if  he  did.  He  sends  me  new  books  occasionally, 
which  they  publish.  The  last  was  "  Prenticeana," 
being  a  collection  of  Prentice,  of  the  "Louisville 
Journal's"  witticisms. 

I  have  attended  Congress  every  day  since  it  assem 
bled,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  the  Speaker  elected,  but 
have  not  yet  seen  it.  I  wanted  to  witness  that  cere 
mony  once  in  my  life,  particularly  after  so  fierce  a 
conflict  as  the  present  one.  I  do  not  apprehend  any 
danger  from  armed  resistance,  as  you  know  the  dogs 
that  bark-  the  loudest  do  not  always,  nor  even  gener 
ally,  bite  the  hardest.  I  am  going  out  presently  to 
make  one  or  two  New  Year's  calls.  We  do  not  keep 
"  open  house,"  as  the  family  are  in  mourning.  Nor 
did  we  have  a  merry-making  at  Christmas.  I  had 
one  or  two  gifts.  I  do  not  go  out  much  and  we  do 
not  have  our  last  winter's  Saturday  night  parties,  but 
I  see  almost  as  many  people.  I  am  sadly  tired  of  the 
Congress  speeches.  The  Democrats  have  it  all  or 


260     GAIL   HAMILTON'S    LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

chiefly  to  themselves,  so  I  now  take  a  book  and  when 
a  man  talks  in  a  "•  long-winded"  way  I  read,  but  as 
soon  as  they  begin  to  fight,  I  wake  up  and  see  what 
the  matter  is.  I  have  taken  to  writing,  also,  for  the 
"  Student  and  Schoolmate,"  a  children's  (monthly) 
magazine,  printed  in  Boston.  With  my  best  wishes 
for  the  New  Year  and  for  all  coming  years  in  this 
and  every  world,  I  am  very  affectionately, 

Your  sister, 


Mr.  Lovejoy  came  just  as  I  was  finishing  my  letter 
to  you.  I  was  going  out  to  make  a  few  calls.  It 
isn't  customary  for  ladies  to  call  here  on  New  Year's 
day,  as  they  generally  stay  at  home  to  receive  visitors, 
but  people  who  don't  keep  house  go  if  they  like  — 
like  me.  So  I  took  Mr.  L.  over  to  a  Mrs.  Cox,  who 
had  sent  for  me.  We  were  offered  egg-nog,  Roman 
punch,  etc.,  but  I  didn't  take  any.  Then  we  went  to 
call  on  the  Bulliutons,  Dawes,  and  Gooches,  Members 
from'  Massachusetts,  who  are  keeping  house  together, 
and  had  a  regular  "  jolly  time."  They  had  found  out 
in  some  way  that  I  was  Gail  Hamilton,  and  so  you  see 
I  was  lionized.  Then  we  went  to  Dr.  Parker's.  He 
used  to  be  our  Commissioner  to  China  —  there  we  were 
offered  wine,  but  declined,  then  we  went  home  and 
some  gentlemen  called,  and  as  Mrs.  Bailey  was 
ill,  and  besides  did  not  "  receive,"  I  entertained  them 
and  sent  them  off,  and  that  is  the  end  of  my  story, 
but  you  see  I  have  accomplished  a  good  deal  to-day, 
one  way  and  another. 

JANUARY  23. 

In  the  evening  I  went  to  a  party  at  Dr.  Parker's, 
met  several  pleasant  people  there,  astonished  an  old 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  261 

Whig  Roman  Catholic  citizen  with  my  radicalism,  so 
that  he  was  moved  to  introduce  his  daughter  to  me,  as 
he  thought  we  should  suit  each  other,  being  both  so 
lively.  His  daughter  proved  to  be  a  very  pretty  girl, 
but  not  irreproachable  in  point  of  grammar.  For  that 
matter,  neither  was  her  father.  Fell  in  also  with  a 
Cincinnati  gentleman  connected  with  one  of  the  news 
papers,  who  talked  about  Gail  Hamilton,  also  a  young 
graduate  of  Yale  who  knew  several  of  my  boys  there 
—  also  De  Naise,  and  several  other  people  whom  I 
knew  —  enjoyed  it  on  the  whole  very  much.  In  the 
evening  Judge  and  Mrs.  McLean  were  here.  He  is 
the  Supreme  Court,  you  must  understand,  and  be  im 
pressed  thereby.  I  did  not  write  the  notice  of  Stan- 
King's  book  —  Mrs.  Bailey  wrote  it.  Found  your 
letter  highly  amusing.  I  have  never  heard  anything 
about  E's  being  engaged.  Dare  say  it's  true,  girls 
generally  are.  I've  just  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  Rich 
ardson.  Says  my  "  letters  are  entirely  satisfactory  — 
hears  many  speak  of  them  with  lively  interest  —  likes 
my  first-page  articles,  they  are  just  what  he  has  been 
trying  to  get  from  me  for  this  long  time."  There! 
I  wish  you  would  leave  the  coming  and  advert  to  the 
come  generation  in  the  way  of  embroidery.  I  have 
been  at  work  at  my  flannel  petticoat  all  winter  and 
haven't  finished  the  second  breadth  yet. 

JANUARY  30. 

I  must  write  you  in  a  great  hurry,  for  till  the  House 
is  organized  I  am  a  good  deal  squeezed  for  time,  and 
you  must  not  expect  what  Mr.  Dexter  calls  "  the 
merry  and  beautiful  grotesqueness  of  my  playful  style," 
but  only  the  barest  details.  People  bore  me  dreadfully. 
I'd  like  to  see  nobodv  from  week's  end  to  week's  end. 


262     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

In  the  evening  Mr.  Mitchell  came  to  invite  me  to  go 
to  church  with  him,  but  as  I  have  declined  going  wilh 
Mr.  Wood,  of  course  I  could  not  go  with  him.  So  I 
sent  down  word  to  him  that  I  went  to  church  in  the 
morning  to  hear  other  people's  theology,  but  stayed  at 
home  in  the  evening  to  construct  a  system  of  my  own. 
Mr.  Dexter  wrote  me  a  long  letter  the  other  day  about 
my  writing,  etc.  Thinks  I  ought  not  to  stay  in  Wash 
ington  longer  than  I  can  help  —  'tisn't  the  place  for 
me.  Ought  to  study  more,  and  prepare  myself  for  my 
life-work  —  that  a  N.E.  village  is  a  far  better  place 
for  me,  etc.  What  do  you  think  about  it? 

FEBRUARY  4. 

Wednesday  at  the  House.  La  !  I  saw  everybody 
and  talked  with  'em  and  laughed  —  what's  the  use  of 
specifying.  The  Speaker  was  elected  and  I  came 
home  and  was  homesick,  pitied  the  poor  fellow  so,  the 
other  fellows  acted  like  cats  and  dogs  and  there  was 
a  great  uproar.  Dr.  Lindsley  was  in  in  the  evening 
and  said  they'd  do  better  by  and  by.  Thursday  Miss 
Swan  called  to  see  me.  Cold  as  Greenland.  Seemed 
as  if  I  should  freeze,  fire  low  in  the  furnace,  and  cross 
as  two  sticks.  1  was,  that  is.  Friday  ditto,  but  Mr. 
Wood  wanted  me  to  make  calls  and  the  calls  had  to 
be  made,  so  I  dressed,  put  on  an  engaging  look,  and 
went  out.  First  to  Governor  Seward's,  but  their  re 
ception  was  in  the  evening,  thought  it  was  in  the  morn 
ing,  then  at  Maine  Washburn's,  Boston  Elliot's,  and 
Syracuse  Elliot's  —  all  out — Mrs.  Bridges',  out.  Mrs. 
Senator  Wilson's  —  in  —  a  little,  pleasant,  nice,  rather 
pretty  woman  —  very  glad  to  meet  me,  had  known 
me  long  through  the  "  Era  "  —  blushed  and  grinned, 
and  vamosed.  Mrs.  Burlingame  out — Mrs.  Alley  in 


LITERARY   PROGRESS  263 

—  liked  her  very  much,  pretty,  beautiful  eyes,  knows 
Grace  Greenwood.  All  the  Daweses  and  Buffiutons 
were  at  home.  On  the  way  Mr.  Wood  told  me  that 
he  had  met  a  gentleman  a  while  ago  who  asked  him  if 
that  young  lady  with  him  was  Mary  Dodge,  of  Hamil 
ton —  said  that  he  was  from  Hamilton  himself,  had 
married  a  Dodge  and  had  in  his  possession  some  kind 
of  a  commission  of  some  old  Robert  Dodge,  taken 
some  time  before  the  flood,  I  don't  know  when,  and  he 
wanted  Mr.  Wood  to  introduce  him  to  me.  It  turned 
out  to  be  Ben :  Perley  Poo  re.  Before  we  got  home 
we  met  him,  so  Mr.  W.  introduced  him  then  and  we 
had  a  jocose  chat.  If  I  had  time  I'd  tell  you  what  we 
said — but  dear  me  —  by  and  by  when  I  have  time  I 
suppose  I  shan't  have  anything  to  write,  but  now  I'm 
running  over.  To-d^y  I  locked  myself  in  and  wrote 
all  day.  When  people  came  thundering  at  the  door  I 
said  nothing,  and  escaped  all  callers  ;  they  thought  I 
was  out,  you  know  —  shan't  tell  anybody  —  mean  to 
do  it  again.  Went  out  to  walk  after  dinner.  Met 
Mr.  Wood,  who  joined  me.  He's  always  meeting  me, 
and  joining  me.  Left  me  at  the  corner.  Mr.  Good- 
loe  met  me  right  after  and  turned  round  and  went 
home  with  me.  Wants  to  take  a  long  walk  with  me. 
Told  him  he  couldn't  go  far  enough  nor  fast  enough, 
but  lie  might  try  it  when  the  weather  became  pleasant 
—  hope  he'll  forget  it  by  that  time.  Got  home,  found 
Mr.  Washburn  had  left  a  special  invitation  for  me  to 
come  to  his  house  to  a  soiree  this  evening,  wasn't  well 
enough  to  go.  Mr.  Mussey  came  afterwards  to  ask 
me  to  go  with  him.  Declined,  of  course.  Stayed  up 
stairs  and  wrote  all  the  evening.  Tell  M.  by  all  means 
to  call  the  baby  Meriel.  I  think  it's  a  beautiful  name. 
Why  didn't  she  ever  tell  me  of  it  when  I've  agonized 


264     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

for  names  to  my  thousand  and  one  children.  T  must 
put  it  into  a  story  directly.  It's  odd  without  being 
stuck-up  or  sentimental.  I  don't  like  the  Lapham  so 
well —  Meriel  Stanwood  would  be  beautiful. 

FEBRUARY  1 1 . 

In  the  evening  I  went  to  the  Smithsonian  to  hear 
Mr.  Gould  lecture  —  nephew  of  Hannah  F.  Gould 
(the  "  Old  Elm  of  Newbury  "  woman).  Mr.  Love  joy 
came  to  see  me.  Went  into  the  parlor  and  found  Mr. 
Sumner  and  Mr.  Goodloe  there  also.  It's  the  first 
time  I  have  met  Mr.  S.  I  rather  like  him.  He  has 
a  very  deep  bass  voice,  and  somehow  he  seemed  to  me 
to  be  a  man  of  integrit}*.  Mr.  Dexter  thinks  he's  about 
the  purest  man  in  Congress. 

I  went  to  Miss  Miner's  to  hear  her  colored  girls  re 
cite  History,  Philosophy  —  read,  spell,  and  sing,  which 
they  did  very  well,  especially  the  reading  and  sing 
ing.  Mr.  Wood  and  I  went  to  the  Senate  to  hear 
Mr.  Hale  speak,  and  were  successful,  that  is,  he  did 
speak.  We  stayed  from  twelve  to  half-past  four. 
Lizzy  Hale  and  Mrs.  Hale  were  sitting  near  us. 
When  I  went  out  I  told  Mrs.  Hale  that  as  I  could  not 
go  down  to  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Hale  by  way  of  con 
gratulation,  I  would  with  her  instead.  When  we  got 
to  the  door,  however,  Mr.  Toombs,  of  Georgia,  began 
to  grow  furious  in  replying  to  Mr.  Hale,  and  we  sat 
down  again.  Mr.  Welling  came  up  presently  and 
commenced  a  talk.  He  thinks  Mr.  Toombs  a  power 
ful  man,  intellectually  as  well  as  bodily.  The  notice 
of  Webster's  Dictionary  in  the  last  "  Era  "  was  mine. 
Mr.  Love  joy  came  to  see  me  pretty  soon  after  dinner 
and  stayed  ever  so  long,  brought  a  new  gold-headed 
cane  that  he  had  just  received  from  an  old  anti- 


LITERARY   PROGRESS  265 

slavery  friend  in  New  York.  After  he  had  gone,  Mr. 
Hale  came,  and  I  congratulated  him  on  his  speech. 
Friday  evening  I  was  at  Mr.  Seward's  with  Mr.  Wood 
—  want  to  know  what  I  wore?  New  green  silk,  low 
neck,  short  sleeves,  lace  cape  with  silk  illusion  puffs, 
and  bows  of  narrow  white  ribbon  all  over  it,  and  lap 
pets  in  front,  white  kid  gloves,  lace  things  on  my 
wrists,  scarlet  velvet  bows  with  ends,  a  gold  bracelet 
on  each  arm,  a  gold  chain  and  anchor  round  my  neck, 
and  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  my  bosom.  Mrs.  Seward 
is  an  invalid,  and  Mrs.  Frederick  Seward,  the  son's 
wife,  does  the  honors.  Had  a  very  pleasant  time. 
Mr.  Wood  said  that  he  thought  Mr.  Seward  received 
me  with  distinguished  favor  —  what  the  French  call 
emprrssement.  I  thought  him  very  affable,  but  I  sup 
posed  he  was  just  the  same  to  them  all.  It  is  possible 
that  Mr.  Seward  may  know  or  remember  that  I  wrote 
that  Brady  piece  which  resulted  in  Lady  Napier's  call 
ing  here.  Introduced  me  to  Hon.  Henry  Winter 
Davis,  of  Maryland,  who,  you  know,  is  making  quite 
a  stir  now,  and  to  Charles  Francis  Adams,  with  whom 
I  had  a  long  conversation.  I  have  been  wanting  to 
know  him  a  long  time.  I  met  Mr.  Preston  King,  too, 
Mrs.  Gurley,  Judge  Trumbull,  and  Mrs.  Trumbull, 
and  others.  Mr.  Baumgras  wants  to  take  a  pencil 
sketch  of  my  face.  He's  an  artist.  Mr.  Clepham 
has  sent  me  a  ticket  to  the  Arts  Union,  and  I  suppose 
I  shall  go  down  there  pretty  soon, 
lu  a  "  hurly-burly  "  as  usual. 

Affectionately  yours, 

ABBY. 


266     GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

FEBRUARY  27. 

About  coming  home  —  I  have  not  decided  yet  —  I 
can't  form  any  plans  for  the  future  until  Mrs.  Bailey 
knows  a  little  more  what  she  is  going  to  do.  I  mean 
that  I  hardly  like  to  come  away  and  leave  her  in  her 
present  condition,  and  she  can't  very  well  do  anything 
until  the  House  Printer  is  elected.  Whether  she  is 
benefited  thereby  or  not,  she  will  then  probably  take 
some  decided  step.  She  will  give  up  the  paper  if 
possible.  She  may  leave  the  city,  though  I  hardly 
think  she  will.  Understand  —  I  am  not  staying  be 
cause  I  have  any  intention  of  remaining  with  her  in 
any  event,  but  because  I  simply  don't  wish  to  add 
another  element  of  unrest  to  her  already  disquieted 
condition.  We  are  on  the  lookout  for  an  election 
every  day,  and  have  been  ever  since  the  election  of 
speaker.  As  for  my  writing  "  harshly  "  to  the  "  Cong.'' 
people,  why,  Mr.  Dexter  says  he  likes  me  when  I'm 
wrathy.  I  told  him  the  other  day  that  he  was  the 
splendidest  okl  fogy  that  ever  was,  only  he  had 
no  sense.  I  scolded  him  terribly  about  one  of  his 
editorials,  and  he  said  it  was  every  word  true,  and  if 
he'd  only  had  me  sooner,  what  a  man  he'd  have 
made  !  and  that  he  had  several  rods  in  pickle  for  me. 
And  you  see,  mother,  I  didn't  tell  them  they  were 
blockheads  —  only  b-k-h-ds,  and  if  they  chose  to  fill 
in  the  missing  letters,  why  it's  no  fault  of  mine.  As 
for  taking  Mrs.  Bailey's  daughter  home,  I  can  only 
say  that  after  long  and  serious  deliberation,  I  have 
concluded  that  one  daughter  is  enough  for  me  to  take 
care  of,  and  that  is  the  youngest  daughter  of  Mr. 
James  B.  Dodge. 

I  haven't  written  for  the  "Era"  because  I  haven't 
had  time  and  because  —  it  isn't  good  pay  !  By  the 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  2fi7 

way,  my  piece  is  out  —  or  a  part  of  it  —  in  the  March 
"Atlantic."  I  will  send  it  to  you  and  you  may  see 
if  you  can  tell  which  it  is.  It's  a  story.  I  expect  I 
shall  have  some  money  some  time  or  other,  but  for 
the  present  I  seem  to  have  pretty  nearly  touched 
bottom. 

In  the  evening  at  the  President's.  I  was  introduced 
to  a  famous  old  man  —  a  Mr.  Jacob  Barker  —  an  im 
mensely  rich  old  Quaker  who  lives  in  New  Orleans. 
I've  seen  plenty  of  stories  about  him  in  the  news 
papers.  He  was  mightily  smitten  with  me  —  you  see 
I  laid  myself  out  to  amuse  him,  not  because  he  was 
rich,  but  because  he  was  such  a  jolly  old  fellow  —  he's 
a  cousin,  I  believe,  of  Dr.  Franklin's  and  looks  very 
much  like  him.  He  told  Mr.  Wood  he  thought  I 
must  make  the  young  men's  heart-strings  thrill  a  little, 
and  Mr.  W.  told  him  he  guessed  it  didn't  make  much 
difference  whether  they  were  young  or  old  !  Wednes 
day,  the  grand  day,  was  a  tremendously  rainy  one. 
We  went  down  to  Mr.  Wood's  rooms  about  11.30 
A.M.  to  sec  the  procession  and  waited  till  4  P.M. 
Mrs.  Gale  was  there  and  Mr.  Wood's  brother  and 
part  of  his  family.  Dr.  Hall's  rooms  are  below 
Mr.  Wood's,  and  there  is  a  balcony  in  front  where  we 
stayed  a  part  of  the  time  —  breaking  in  on  Dr.  Hall's 
bachelor  solitude  most  uproar (i)ously  —  I  didn't  care 
though  —  I  told  Dr.  Hall  it  was  a  grand  place  to  see 
processions  and  I  should  come  again.  He  said  if  my 
President  should  be  elected  he  would  tear  his  balcony 
down.  Dr.  Hall  showed  me  his  curious  old  books 
and  his  pictures. 

Introduced  to  Senator  Foote  of  Vermont,  a  splendid- 
looking  old  man  that  I've  been  wanting  to  know  this 
long  while  —  he  said  he'd  known  my  face  a  long  time 


268     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

—  then  Mr.  Harrington  and  Gov.  Bingham,  now 
Senator  from  Michigan,  attacked  me  simultaneously. 
Then  Mrs.  Seward  brought  up  a  Miss  Walton,  of  New 
York,  and  Gov.  Bingham,  Mrs.  Gov.  Grimes  of  Iowa. 
Then  Mr.  Preston  King,  Senator  from  New  York, 
came  up.  I  told  Mr.  Seward  that  I  wished  there  was 
nobody  there  but  me,  and  that  I  was  Queen  of  Eng 
land,  so  that  he  should  sit  down  and  tell  all  about  his 
travels,  and  he  said  he  would  some  time,  making 
believe  I  ivas  Queen  of  England.  Saturday  Mr. 
Welling  came  to  see  me  just  after  dinner  and  stayed 
till  half-past  eight  P.M.  We  talked  of  everything  in 
earth  and  heaven.  I  had  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Spalding 
this  morning,  asking  me  to  write  "  some  more  "  in  the 
"Era,"  and  enclosing  a  very  high  encomium  of  my 
last  winter's  pieces  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fletcher, 
author  of  "Brazil  and  the  Brazilians."  She  says: 
"  What  pointcdness,  what  nai'veness,  what  clear  pene 
tration  and  sound  judgment  she  shows  in  her  well- 
chosen  and  well-fitting  words.  It  is  not  every  day 
one  can  listen  to  such  a  conversation  as  that  of  Gail 
Hamilton.  I  wish  I  were  in  the  way  of  seeing  her. 
Mr.  Fletcher  has  shared  my  enjoyment  fully.  He 
has  pronounced  the  papers  '  charming,  healthy,  mag- 
netical,  and  Christian.' "  Mr.  Dexter  wrote  to  me 
that  in  looking  over  the  table  of  contents  of  the 
March  "Atlantic,"  he  said  to  himself,  "There,  I 
don't  believe  but  that  Gail  Hamilton  wrote  that  story," 
so  he  cut  the  leaves  and  read  it,  and  then  he  said, 
"Well,  if  she  didn't  write  it,  she  might  have  written 
it,  and  on  the  whole,  I  think  she  did."  It  was  my 
story.  Don't  talk  about  it.  I  suppose  people  will 
find  it  out,  but  don't  you  proclaim  it. 


LITERARY   PROGRESS  269 

MARCH  5. 

A  Mr.  AVaruer  had  been  told  that  if  he  could  get 
introduced  to  Miss  Dodge,  he  would  find  her  an 
acquisition.  He's  going  to  Hartford  next  week  to 
help  edit  "The  Press"  with  Mr.  Hawley. 

You  see  Ford  is  elected  Printer,  but  there  are  so 
many  combinations  and  corruptions  that  I  don't 
believe  Mrs.  Bailey  will  get  anything  to  speak  of. 
Mr.  Gallagher  left  on  Saturday.  He  gave  me  a 
lecture  of  his  which  he  said  he  always  took  with  him 
when  he  left  home  to  give  to  the  new  acquaintance 
that  should  strike  him  most.  He  gave  it  to  me. 

Mr.  Wood  was  sitting  in  Dr.  Gale's  office  and  heard 
Mr.  Morse  (Professor  Morse),  the  telegraph  man, 
reading  my  "  Atlantic "  story  aloud  to  the  female 
Gales,  and  saying  that  he  should  like  to  see  that 
young  lady.  Well,  two  or  three  days  after,  as  1  was 
coming  home  from  my  walk,  I  saw  Mr.  Wood  stand 
ing  out  by  Dr.  Gale's  door  talking  with  a  gentleman. 
I  expected  he  would  see  me  and  poke  along  after  me, 
as  he  always  does.  So  I  didn't  see  him.  I  marched 
along  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  when  I  heard  him 
calling:  "Mary!  Mary  Dodge  !"  But  I  didn't  hear 
him.  The  good  soul  was  not  to  be  wheedled  in  that 
way,  though,  so  he  came  striding  across  the  street 
after  me,  and  said  he  wanted  to  introduce  me  to  a 
friend.  I  scolded  and  stormed,  but  the  friend,  who 
was  the  veritable  Prof.  Morse,  was  already  half 
across  the  street,  so  I  choked  off  my  mad,  looked  as 
"  smiling  as  a  summer  morn,"  went  up  to  him  and 
said:  "Mr.  Morse,  I  can't  bear  to  be  introduced  to 
people,  so  I  am  going  to  introduce  myself."  Then 
we  had  quite  a  long  talk  and  I  liked  him  very  much, 
and  he  complimented  me,  and  I  complimented  him, 


270     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

and   it   was    ueck-and-neck    which    could    lay    it    on 
thickest. 

I  took  my  copy  of  Miss  Beechcr's  work  round  to 
Mrs.  Judge  McLean  for  her  to  read.  Mr.  Lovejoy 
sent  me  up  the  first  draft  of  a  speech  to  look  over, 
which  I  did.  aud  read  it  to  Mrs.  Pike  and  Mrs. 
Bailey,  and  told  him  it  was  very  good,  but  a  little  too 
much  spread-eagle,  but  he  said  he  was  going  to  fight 
humbug  with  humbug.  In  the  evening  Gov.  and 
Mrs.  Bingham  called.  I  excused  myself,  and  came 
off.  After  I  was  gone  Mrs.  Bingham  asked  Mrs. 
Bailey,  "  She  is  not  an  American  girl,  is  she?  "  She 
thought  T  must  be  English,  I  had  so  much  color !  I 
guess  she  meant  Irish,  only  feared  it  would  not  be 
polite.  We  played  whist  at  Mrs.  Cox's.  We  had 
cake  and  wine  to  refresh  ourselves  with.  The  wine 
had  not  been  uncorked  for  fifty  years.  I  only  tasted 
it  just  for  the  name  of  it,  you  know.  Mr.  Derby 
does  not  know  that  he  shall  be  able  to  come  to  Wash 
ington,  so  I  have  not  seen  him.  They  are  going  to 
publish  a  book  —  "  Women  of  the  North  Distinguished 
in  Literature,"  and  he  wants  to  put  me  in.  He'll 
catch  it  if  he  does.  I  am  going  to  write  him  a  letter 
on  that  subject. 

MARCH   12. 

You  wrote  me  a  nice  long,  and  withal  very  amusing, 
letter,  dated  January  20.  I've  read  it  over  this 
morning  with  as  much  interest  as  on  the  morning  I 
received  it,  but  if  you  recollect  that  you  gave  me 
therein  a  downright  scolding,  you  will  understand  the 
reason  why  I  have  not  answered  it  before.  No  such 
thing  —  I  was  amused,  though,  inasmuch  as  while  you 
were  taking  us  writers  to  task  for  using  foreign  words, 
you  used  one  yourself  —  wondering  why  the  literati 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  271 

couldn't  stop  doing  it,  etc.  There,  now  !  I  commend 
the  chalice  to  your  own  lips. 

My  dear,  you  needn't  sigh  over  my  privileges.  I 
am  just  as  eager  to  get  home  as  you  could  be  to  get 
here  —  and  a  great  deal  more  so  than  you  are.  I 
like  here.  I'm  glad  I  came,  but  I  don't  want  to  live 
here,  and  unless  I  am  going  to  live  here,  it's  high 
time  I  was  away.  There  is  a  kind  of  fascination  in 
society.  When  I  get  agoing,  I  like  to  —  go  it !  I've 
really  had  some  thoughts  of  giving  myself  up  to  it  in 
earnest,  and  seeing  what  I  could  do.  You  may  think 
me  very  foolish,  and  I  am  quite  aware  that  I  have  not 
beauty  or  money,  yet  without  them,  and  without  giv 
ing  much  thought  to  it,  I  can  make  a  little  stir,  and  if 
I  should  give  my  mind  to  it  I  think  I  could  do  some 
thing.  Still  I  don't  suppose  it  would  be  spending 
life  to  the  best  advantage,  so,  on  the  whole,  I  think 
I  shall  go  to  New  England  if  my  life  is  spared  to  get 
there.  I  shall  leave  pleasant  friends  and  pleasant 
memories  here. 

I  did  see  the  Speaker  elected,  but  it  wasn't  much  of 
a  see  after  all.  He  wasn't  the  one  I  wanted,  and  in 
my  opinion  he  isn't  a  good  Speaker.  I'm  a  little  dis 
gusted  with  politics,  too,  and  politicians.  At  a  party 
a  while  ago  I  said  to  Mr.  Adams  (Charles  Francis), 
with  whom  I  was  talking,  ' '  I  shouldn't  think  you'd 
want  to  talk  politics  out  of  the  House."  "  Oh  !  "  he 
said,  "  I'd  just  as  soon  talk  out  of  the  House  as  in  it." 
He  is  a  quiet,  well-bred  Boston  gentleman,  and  a 
great  contrast  to  many  of  the  "  rowdies  "  in  Congress. 
I  told  him  once  I  thought  it  was  a  great  piece  of  con 
descension  in  him  to  come  to  Congress.  He  is  short, 
not  much,  if  any,  taller  than  I  am,  with  gray  hair,  and 
bald,  and  looks  so  much  like  his  father  that  I  recog- 


272     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

nized  him  iu  the  House  by  his  resemblance  to  the 
portraits  of  his  father,  whom  I  never  saw.  He  told 
me  also  that  the  Clerk  of  the  House  recognized  him  by 
his  resemblance  to  the  picture  of  his  grandfather.  I 
have  met  him  several  times,  and  like  him  very  much. 
Another  celebrity  whom  I  have  met  is  Mr.  Seward. 
I  saw  him  last  winter,  but  was  not  introduced.  I  have 
met  him  several  times  this  winter.  I  saw  him  the 
longest  one  evening  at  a  reception  at  Mr.  Washburne's 
(of  Maine).  I  noticed  him  when  he  came  in.  He 
saluted  the  hosts  and  then  bowed  right  and  left  to  the 
people  around,  but  the  moment  he  saw  me  he  came 
straight  towards  me,  took  me  into  a  corner,  and  we 
sat  and  talked  a  long  while.  He  was  in  high  spirits. 
He  called  Mrs.  Pike  (wife  of  one  of  the  editors  of  the 
"Tribune,"  the  one  who  writes  the  J.  S.  P.  letters, — 
they  are  staying  with  us  now) ,  and  she  sat  on  the 
other  side  of  him,  and  Mr.  Lovejoy  came  and  sat  in 
front,  and  so  we  had  a  little  circle  of  our  own.  It 
was  a  few  days  after  he  had  made  his  great  speech. 
I  told  him  I  was  going  to  flatter  him  a  little  if  it  was 
proper.  He  said  that  flattery  never  hurt  him,  for  he 
had  so  much  of  the  other  kind  that  it  counteracted 
the  effects.  I  told  him  also  the  parts  of  the  speech 
that  I  did  not  like  —  about  negro  equality.  He  said 
that  was  the  part  Mrs.  Seward  objected  to,  but  he  had 
found  by  long  experience  that  the  way  to  elevate  the 
negro  was  to  elevate  the  white  man.  He  told  us  about 
his  trip  abroad.  Mr.  Foote,  Senator  from  Vermont, 
is  a  fine-looking,  venerable  man,  with  gray  hair  and  a 
piercing  black  eye.  He  says  he  has  known  my  face  a 
long  time.  The  first  time  I  went  to  call  on  Mrs. 
McLean  she  was  very  glad  to  see  me,  for  she  said  Mr. 
Foote,  who  boards  at  their  house,  had  brought  home 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  273 

such  a  glowing  account  of  me  that  she  really  wanted 
to  make  my  acquaintance.  Augusta  says  she  never 
saw  anybody  toot  his  own  horn  as  I  do  —  that  I  tell 
off  puffs  as  coolly  as  if  they  were  about  somebody 
else  and  not  myself,  but  I  do  it  because  I  know  if  you 
were  here,  and  T  were  there,  I  should  want  you  to  do 
just  the  same.  I  don't  to  anybody  else  except  }~ou 
and  the  family  letters,  only  as  I  write  the  latter  every 
week,  of  course  they  have  more  of  it  than  you,  who 
only  get  what  happens  at  the  moment  to  be  uppermost 
in  my  mind.  It's  good  fun,  though.  I  like  to  get  in 
a  corner  and  have  half  a  dozen  round  me  and  feel  a 
little  excited,  and  make  'em  all  laugh,  and  see  the 
women  look  and  wonder  what  is  going  on.  I  tell  you, 
if  I  should  give  my  mind  to  it,  wouldn't  I  do  a  thing 
or  two?  Nevertheless  I  get  horribly  bored.  We  have 
so  much  company  evenings.  I  long  for  quiet.  At  a 
party,  when  you  get  tired  of  one  you  can  go  to  an 
other,  but  at  home  you  must  entertain  people  as  long 
as  they  choose  to  stay,  and  the  more  entertaining  you 
are,  you  know,  the  longer  they  choose  to  stay.  How 
ever,  it's  all  very  well,  and  after  I  am  gone  home  I 
dare  say  I  shall  look  back  with  regret  sometimes  upon 
the  very  things  that  tire  me  now.  You  needn't  sup 
pose,  however,  that  I  am  going  to  vegetate  in  Hamil 
ton  ;  not  a  bit  of  it.  The  "  Congregationalist "  want 
me  to  help  them ;  they  will  give  me  a  salary  of  from 
$400  to  $600  per  annum  for  work  that  Mr.  Dexter 
thinks  will  take  only  about  a  day  or  a  day  and  a  half 
a  week.  I  should  go  to  Boston  twice  a  week.  I  told 
him  I  wouldn't  make  any  engagement  about  it,  but  I 
would  see  when  I  got  home.  I  think  I  should  like  it. 
I  like  Tiim,  so  we  shouldn't  probably  come  into  unpleas 
ant  collision.  He  wrote  me  also  last  week.  I  think 


274     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

it  will  give  you  the  best  view  of  the  case  to  copy  from 
his  letter,  which  I  will  do,  leaving  out  unnecessary 
episodes.  He  says  the  Tract  Society  were  asking 
him  to  write  books  for  them,  and  he  couldn't,  because 
he  had  so  much  to  do,  and  they  began  to  explain  their 
immense  and  peculiar  need  of  spicy  books  when  "I  said 
to  them,  '  If  you  want  books  of  that  sort  I  can  per 
haps  direct  you  to  a  young  lady  who  may  do  some 
thing  for  you  in  that  line,  though  her  time  is,  and  is 
to  be,  very  much  taken  up  in  other  directions.'  '  You 
mean  Miss  Gail  Hamilton?'  'Yes.'  Whereat  I 
was  buttonholed  and  token  into  the  private  room,  and 
a  suction  hose  applied  to  ascertain  what,  how  far,  etc., 
I  knew  of  the  aforesaid  G.  H.'s  plans,  and  particu 
larly  with  reference  to  the  engrossment  of  her  time. 
I  didn't  '  run  '  at  all  freely,  but  returned  the  compli 
ment  by  applying  my  hose  and  inquiring  what  they 
wanted  to  know  for.  They  were  reticent,  whereat  I 
ventured  to  hint  to  them  that,  on  further  considera 
tion,  I  doubted  whether  you  would  be  able  to  do  any 
thing  for  them,  that  measures  were  in  progress,  that  I 
had,  in  fact,  made  you  a  quasi  offer,  and  that  negoti 
ations  were  pending  between  us  which  would  probably 
count  thf-m  out.  Then  they  took  me  into  another 
private  room,  and  Alvord  frankly  stated  that  they  were 
after  yon,  and  must  have  you,  that  he  had  seen  Mrs. 
Cowles  and  Mr.  Bannister,  and  had  interested  them 
in  the  great  work  which  the  T.  S.  was  wanting  to 
have  done,  and  which  nobody  on  earth  but  you  could 
do,  and  they  thought  you  would  be  glad  to  come  to 
New  England  and  have  some  permanent  home  and 
engagements,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  writing  to 
yon  to  broach  the  matter,  winding  up  by  a  pathetic 
appeal  to  me  to  '  use  my  influence '  and  let  them  have 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  275 

you.  I  only  pumped  further.  '  How  did  they  want 
you?'  Well,  if  they  could  get  the  whole  of  your 
time  to  write  books  and  write  for  the  '  Child's  Paper,' 
etc.,  they  wouldn't  probably  mind  giving  you  $1,000 
or  $1,200  per  annum  if  you  wanted  it.  I  told  them 
that  in  all  human  probability  you  would  not  make  any 
such  arrangement,  that  you  did  not  need  to  tie  your 
self  up  in  that  way,  that  you  could  get  money  enough 
by  your  pen  without  any  such  hampering,  and,  fur 
ther,  that  I  doubted  if  you  would  have  anything  to  do 
with  them  anyway.  I  did  tell  him,  however,  that  if 
anybody  could  do  anything  with  you  I  flattered  my 
self  /could,  and  that  I  did  think  /  could  prevail  on 
you  to  aid  them  some,  that  I  thought  it  very  possible, 
in  connection  with  your  other  work,  you  might  be  will 
ing  every  month  or  two  to  write  them  a  little  book  (in 
their  large  type  and  small  pages  you  could  write  a 
book  in  two  or  three  days  any  time) .  He  then  begged 
me  to  write  you  and  intercede,  and  beg,  and  plead 
with  you  on  their  behalf,  and  said  he  wouldn't  write 
to  you  about  it  till  I  had  written  and  heard  from  you. 
I  said  I  would  write."  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Dexter  that  I 
was  amazed  at  their  audacity,  that  I  would  do  it  for 
$1,200  just  as  soon  as  I  would  for  $12,000,  and  for 
the  Tract  Soc.  just  as  soon  as  I  would  for  the  Angel 
Gabriel  or  Beelzebub,  and  no  sooner,  that  the  very 
fact  that  I  'was  willing  to  put  my  brain  in  pawn 
would  show  that  my  brain  wasn't  worth  pawning, 
that  I  would  write  stories,  and  if  they  liked  'em  they 
might  have  'em,  but  I  didn't  believe  they  would,  and 
that  I  would  not  write  to  suit  them,  and  I  would  not 
make  any  engagement,  and  if  I  did  I  would  break  it 
the  first  thing. 

So  the  case  stands.    Jt  would  be  murder  —  the  idea 


276     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

of  my  selling  myself  body  and  soul  to  write  children's 
stories  !  I'd  rather  have  less  money  and  be  able  to  call 
my  soul  my  own.  I  haven't  said  a  word  of  this  to  any 
body  but  you.  I'm  afraid  if  father  knew  I  had  refused 
a  salary  of  $1,200,  he  would  go  crazy,  so  be  sure  you 
don't  lisp  a  syllable  of  it  in  your  letters.  I  shouldn't 
tell  you  only  you  are  so  far  off.  I  shall  tell  mother 
and  Augusta  when  I  go  home.  For  that  matter,  if  I 
live,  it  will  probably  be  a  great  deal  better,  even  in  a 
pecuniary  point  of  view,  that  I  should  not  make  such 
an  engagement,  but,  good  or  bad,  I  won't  make  it. 
It  will  probably  not  be  decided  what  I  shall  do  till  I 
go  home.  I  mean  about  the  "  Congregationalist "  and 
all.  I  will  tell  you  when  it  is.  I  am  thinking  now  of 
starting  for  home  on  the  first  of  April,  but  I  may  not 
so  soon.  I  intend  to  be  about  three  weeks  on  the 
way. 

Did  you  see  anything  in  the  March  "Atlantic"  that 
sounded  like  me?  I  am  generally  reputed  to  have 
written  "  The  Pursuit  of  Knowledge  under  Uillicul- 
ties."  I'm  not  married  and  I  don't  think  I  shall  be. 
I  can't  afford  the  time,  and  besides,  the  men  ought  to 
be  given  to  the  women  who  can't  get  along  without 
'em.  I  can  support  myself,  and  so  I  think  I'd  better 
do  it.  Besides,  I  have  a  greater  "run"  among  the 
men  themselves  than  if  I  were  married.  Now  I  am 
independent  and  every  man  is  my  "  humble  servant." 
If  I  were  married  I  should  be  dependent  upon  the 
caprices  of  one.  An  unmarried  woman  has  an  im 
mense  advantage  over  the  married  woman.  You 
think  I  "  may  have  seen  women  on  New  Year's  day, 
but  I  make  no  mention  of  them."  My  dear,  I  like 
women.  In  fact,  I  esteem  them  very  highly,  but  I 
bag  higher  game  —  when  I  can.  Women  do  to  fall 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  277 

back  upon,  but  for  first  choice,  give  me  a  brace  of 
bearded  men. 

I  don't  believe  I  shall  come  to  Minnesota  this  sum 
mer.  First  of  all,  I  want  quiet  and  rest  more  than 
anything  else.  Second,  there  is  so  much  to  be  done 
that  I  don't  believe  I  can  get  away  conveniently. 
Thirdly,  this  paper  business  will  be  new  and  I  shall 
want  to  be  on  hand  in  order  to  see  about  it.  Fourth 
ly,  I  don't  believe  I  shall  have  money,  for  Mrs.  Bailey 
has  not  paid  me  a  cent  since  I  have  been  here  and  I 
don't  believe  she  will  or  is  able,  so  I  have  had  to  take 
my  C —  money.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  stay  at 
home  and  write  one  or  two  books  before  I  do  much  of 
anything.  I  should  like  to  go  very  much,  both  to  see 
you  and  the  country  and  for  the  journey's  sake. 

MARCH  19. 

Monday  evening  went  to  hear  a  Catholic  Bishop 
Spalding  of  Ohio  lecture.  Tuesday  Mr.  Lovejoy  was 
in  in  the  evening.  Mr.  Pike  was  out,  did  not  come 
home  till  twelve  o'clock.  Mrs.  P.,  Marcel,  and  I  sat 
up  for  him ;  when  we  heard  him  at  the  door  we  all 
went  to  help  him  in,  pretending  he  was  drunk,  and 
"  took  him  by  his  hind  legs,  took  him  by  his  fore-legs, 
took  him  by  all  his  legs,  and  dragged  him  upstairs." 
A  letter  from  Mr.  Richardson,  sending  some  pictures 
for  a  story  for  the  "•  S.  &  S.,"  says,  "A  good  many 
people  inquire  nowadays  who  Gail  H.  is,  and  they 
will  have  it  that  she  is  a  man,  or  at  least  that  she's  for 
women's  rights."  In  the  evening  three  men  fell  to  my 
share.  Mrs.  P.  said  that  she  told  Mr.  P.  how  I  set 
myself  down  before  those  three  men  like  a  Christian 
and  a  martyr  and  entertained  them.  I  told  her  I 
didn't  entertain  them  much.  I  just  let  them  talk. 


278    GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

"Ah,"  said  she,  "but  you  had  magnetism  enough  to 
set  them  agoing,  and  you  did  talk  a  good  deal  your 
self,  too."  I  happened  to  feel  in  the  mood,  though,  so 
we  got  on  very  well.  It's  a  great  deal  easier  to  man 
age  three  men  than  it  is  one.  You  can  make  them 
play  into  each  other's  hands  somehow.  It  is  the 
single  t6te-a-tetes  that  kill  me.  A  letter  from  Mr. 
Richardson,  with  my  "  quarter's  salary,"  saying  that 
he  did  not  like  my  letter  on  Church-going,  and  must 
look  out  for  me  more  sharply  hereafter.  I  wrote  buck 
to  him  that  it  would  annoy  me  very  much  to  have 
everybody  agree  with  what  I  wrote,  because  that 
would  show  that  there  was  no  need  of  my  writing, 
etc.  I  can't  write  definitely  about  my  arrangements 
yet.  I  want  to  stop  in  Philadelphia,  and  I  want,  if 
possible,  to  be  in  Hartford  at  the  examination  of  the 
High  School.  You  are  not  to  suppose  that  I  am  pro 
posing  to  stay  at  home  during  the  remainder  of  my 
natural  life.  In  such  a  case,  I  think  I  should  hardly 
be  contented  even  till  the  new  was  worn  off.  Still  I 
cannot  help  looking  with  curious  eyes  from  the  me 
tropolis  to  that  State  of  rural  simplicity. 

Saturday  evening  I  went  with  the  Pikes  to  Mr. 
Washburne's.  Had  a  nice,  funny  time.  I'll  tell  you 
whom  I  talked  with  —  Gov.  and  Mrs.  Bingham,  Mr. 
Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.,  of  Boston,  and  daughter,  Mrs. 
John  Potter,  of  Wisconsin,  Mr.  Hatch  and  daughter  of 
I  don't  know  where,  Mrs.  Charles  Francis  Adams  and 
Mr.  Lovejoy,  Mrs.  Bridge  and  Miss  Miner,  Mr. 
Elliott  and  daughter,  the  first  very  agreeable,  the 
second  very  pretty,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sedgwick,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Washburne,  Mr.  Johnson,  of  Washington,  and 
his  adopted  mother,  and  Miss  Donaldson,  his  aunt, 
Mr.  Baumgras,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dawes,  Mr.,  Mrs.,  and 


LITERARY   PROGRESS  279 

Miss  Hale,  Mr.  Harrington,  Mr.  Allen,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Doolittle,  and  Mr.  Grow.  I  don't  recollect  any  others 
at  this  minute.  I  tell  you  I  could  "  cut  a  dash  "  if  I 
should  set  out !  Sometimes  I  think  I  will.  Most 
women  are  so  stolid.  They  stand  still  and  expect  to 
be  entertained.  I  circulate  and  talk  wild  and  make 
'em  laugh  and  am  natural  and  so  people  get  round  me. 
I  told  Mrs.  Adams  I  had  been  wanting  to  be  intro 
duced  to  her  a  long  while.  She  said  she  had  seen  me 
several  times  before,  but  there  was  always  such  a 
crowd  round  me  and  I  was  so  busy  talking  that  she 
had  not  come  up  to  be  introduced.  Of  course  it  was 
mere  politeness  that  made  her  speak  of  being  intro 
duced  to  me.  It  was  I  that  wanted  to  be  iniroduced 
to  her.  "  So  no  more  at  present." 

From  yours  very  truly, 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

WASHINGTON,  D.C.,  March  31,  I860. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  think  if  you  should  come  into 
my  room  at  this  present  writing  you  would  go  crazy, 
in  a  small  way.  I  suppose  there  are  on  a  moderate 
calculation  a  hundred  thousand  things  scattered  around 
the  room.  The  table  on  which  I  am  writing  is  so  full 
that  I  despaired  of  clearing  a  place  large  enough  to 
write,  so  I  just  set  my  atlas  down  right  on  the  top  of 
the  things.  Every  chair  is  filled.  My  drawers  have 
been  broad  open  these  two  days,  and  everything  is 
heaped  up  in  hills  in  them.  The  bed  is  covered.  The 
tables  are  covered.  The  floor  is  covered.  The  closet 
bulges.  How  these  things  are  to  be  got  together,  I 
cannot  imagine. 

Your  letters  and  the  note  came  this  morning.  I 
can't  stop  to  answer  them  now,  particularly  as  there 


280     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

is  a  good  deal  that  I  want  to  say,  especially  about  ray 
"  Congregationalist "  articles,  but  I  reserve  it  till  I  see 
you,  but  I  wish  you,  mother,  particularly  to  under 
stand  that  I  don't  feel  bad  about  the  Rockville  min 
ister —  not  in  the  least.  It  is  the  proof  of  my  minis 
try.  I  wish  you  to  understand  that  if  I  write  much 
I  shall  probably  meet  with  a  great  deal  of  opposition, 
for  I  shall  express  views  which  run  counter  to  popular 
conviction,  so  if  you  faint  now,  you  will  have  a  cata 
lepsy  by  and  by  when  worst  comes  to  worst.  The 
only  thing  I  am  afraid  of  is  that  Mr.  11.  will  be  scared 
and  won't  print  my  pieces.  That  won't  make  any 
difference  about  my  writing  them,  however.  I  shall 
write  and  print  somewhere.  If  one  won't,  another 
will.  There  is  an  undercurrent  of  feeling  that  will 
sustain  me.  I  ivant  to  upheave  and  overturn.  Land 
needs  to  be  sub-soiled,  as  well  as  top-dressed.  "  The 
time  is  out  of  joint,  O  cursed  spite,  That  ever  I  was 
born  to  set  it  right,"  says  Hamlet,  but  I  don't  say  so. 
It's  just  what  1  should  like  to  be  born  for,  and  I  hope 
I  was. 

I  don't  think  I  can  write  to  Mr.  Bartlett.  I  haven't 
spunk  enough  to  write  a  good  letter  and  I  don't  want 
to  write  a  poor  one  —  and  I  write  so  much  that  I 
loathe  writing.  Mr.  Dexter  told  me  the  other  day  — 
wrote  to  me  —  that  he  heard  the  Boston  Tract  Society 
make  a  remark  about  me —  that  a  gentleman  from  the 
rural  district  of  N.H.  said,  "  That  'air  Dodge  gal  was 
a  whole  team,  a  hoss  to  let,  and  a  dog  under  the 
wagon."  That's  all  I  know  about  it. 

My  plan  now  is  to  leave  here  to-morrow  morning  at 
6.20— stop  at  Philadelphia  ("1022  Wistar  Street. 
Beat  that  into  your  brains  before  you  start,"  says  Mr. 
Lippincott) ,  then  to  New  York,  and  Mr.  Derby  is  to 


LITERARY  PROGRESS  281 

meet  me  at  Jersey  City,  where  he  expects  "  a  little 
angel  [that's  me!]  to  rush  directly  into  his  arms," 
says  Mr.  Derby  —  and  he  is  to  take  me  up  the  Hudson, 
a  half-hour  or  an  hour's  ride,  to  his  home  at  Yonkers 
—  then  to  Meriden,  Conn.,  where  I  intend  to  arrive 
before  Sunday,  and  where  I  will  write  to  you  again. 
This  must  do  for  this  time. 

Affectionately, 

M.  A.  D. 


VII 

BUSY    YEARS   IN   HAMILTON 

1860-1868 


VII 

BUSY  YP:ARS  IN  HAMILTON 

1860-1868 

MAY  28,  1860. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  WOOD  :  I  have  been  looking  out  all 
along  for  news  of  the  steamer  "  Prince  Albert."  Two 
days  ago  lo  !  I  saw  that  the  "  Prince  Albert "  took  fire 
three  days  from  Galway.  I  really  am  afraid  you're  a 
kind  of  Jonah.  That's  the  third  time,  since  I  knew 
you,  that  you've  been  in  danger  of  being  burnt  out, 
or  rather  of  being  burnt  in,  which  is  worse  still. 

I'll  try  to  give  you  a  succinct  account  of  my  life 
and  sufferings  since  your  departure.  I  shall  confine 
myself  chiefly  to  my  own  biography,  because  I  am  the 
only  person  in  whom  you  are  interested  of  whom  I 
can  give  you  any  information.  I  don't  think  I  have 
heard  from  the  Baileys  since  you  went  away,  nor  have 
I  seen  Mrs.  Baldwin.  I  have  been  too  busy  to  do 
anything  but  what  was  necessary  in  the  way  of  visit 
ing.  The  day  I  left  you  —  you  to  look  at  the  Old 
World  —  I  to  work  in  the  New  —  I  walked  over  from 
Salem  to  Beverly  after  a  vain  attempt  to  obtain  a  copy 
of  the  "  N.Y.  Tribune,"  visited  my  brother,  and 
went  with  them  in  the  evening  to  the  silver  wedding 
of  Rev.  Mr.  Abbott,  which  went  off  as  I  suppose 
very  much  like  other  silver  weddings,  a  great  crowd, 
285 


286     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

nice  cake,  a  quantity  of  gold  and  silver  in  the  shape 
of  coins,  watches,  spoons,  forks,  pitchers,  a  man  and 
woman  very  smiling  and  happy  and  embarrassed,  and 
extremely  happy  when  it  was  over,  I  don't  doubt ;  but 
it  all  went  off  well,  and  was  a  success  —  the  only 
thing  of  the  kind  I  ever  attended. 

My  time,  a  great  part  of  it,  has  been  spent  in  any 
thing  but  literary  occupations.  Do  you  remember  the 
hideous  gravel-bank  in  front  and  round  our  house  ? 
Well,  I  walked  ten  miles  a  few  weeks  ago  to  get  a 
man  to  come  and  symmetrize  it  and  turf  it,  and  he 
came,  but  it  was  rather  late  and  very  dry.  For  four 
weeks  and  six  days  we  had  no  rain,  and  I  used  to 
water  the  whole  of  that  overgrown  bank  almost  every 
day,  and  sometimes  twice  a  day,  drawing  the  water 
myself  from  the  well,  and  carrying  it  up  and  pouring 
it  into  the  watering-pot,  and  then  pouring  it  on.  I  as 
sure  you  it  was  no  laughing  matter,  but  it  is  a  laughing 
matter  now,  for  I  just  managed  to  keep  the  breath  of 
life  in  the  roots  till  the  rain  came,  and  now  it  is  doing 
finely,  only  I  suppose  by  the  time  you  come  home  it 
will  be  all  "  sere  and  yellow,"  so  that  you  will  fail  to 
see  its  glory  —  though  after  Italian  skies,  and  Swiss 
mountains,  and  Irish  turf,  our  bank  will,  I  fear,  be  a 
very  little,  insignificant  affair.  Never  mind,  it  keeps 
our  cellar  warm  in  winter  and  cool  in  summer,  and 
that's  what  "  Alps  on  Alps  "  won't  do.  I  took  my 
revenge  on  the  bank  for  giving  me  so  much  trouble 
by  putting  it  into  print.  After  I  had  attended  to  the 
bank,  the  house  had  to  be  papered.  I  went  to  Dan- 
vers  and  found  a  man,  then  came  home  and  turned 
everything  topsy-turvy  to  get  ready  for  him.  He  tor 
mented  us  for  a  fortnight  with  paint  and  paste,  and 
then  left  us  in  a  turmoil  that  we  have  not  quite  got 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  287 

out  of  yet.  I  have  ripped  up  the  old  carpet  in  my 
room  and  put  down  another  which  is  supposed  to  rep 
resent  strawberries,  though  the  ground  is  red,  and  the 
strawberries  dust-color,  which  seems  to  be  out  of  the 
natur.-il  order  of  things,  a  mistake  of  the  artist's,  I 
suppose.  I  have  curtains  —  red  patch,  lined  with 
buff  cambric,  also  white  curtains  with  red  tassels 
under  the  former,  also  green  blinds,  so  I  may  be  con 
sidered  as  shut  in  from  the  world.  I  have  also  a 
lounge,  green,  —  a  favorite  color  of  mine,  and  grateful 
to  the  eye,  —  but  also,  alas,  yellow,  which  is  not  a 
favorite  color,  but  on  my  lounge  occupies  the  same 
relation  to  the  green  that  Pharaoh's  lean  kine  did  to  the 
fatkine.  My  lounge  is  hideous  and  comfortable.  As 
soon  as  I  shall  have  earned  :i  little  superfluous  money 
I  shall  have  it  covered  with  dark  green  moreen. 
Meanwhile  I  call  it  "  oranges,"  and  defend  it  against 
all  comers.  Then  I  have  my  table,  writing-desk, 
bureau,  bookcase  and  books,  stove,  etc.,  and  in  my 
bedroom  I  have  constructed  a  very  nice  wash-hand 
stand,  sink,  etc.,  out  of  an  old  dressing-table  and  a 
few  old  nightgowns,  very  honorable  to  my  taste  and 
ingenuity,  I  assure  you —  though  your  ideas  of  luxury 
might  smile  at  it,  and  I  have  a  new  white  quilt  on  my 
bed,  and  altogether  I  am  very  comfortable.  I  get  up 
in  the  morning  between  five  and  six,  write  or  work 
till  eight,  then  breakfast,  P.O.  letters,  papers,  etc., 
out-doors,  walking,  rambling,  etc.,  as  long  as  I  like, 
then  come  in  and  do  what  I  like  till  dinner  at  five  — 
then  do  what  I  like  again  till  nine,  when  I  go  to  bed. 
It's  a  charming  life  to  me,  who  have  been  so  confined 
to  hours.  The  way  I've  arranged  about  the  meals  is 
best  for  my  appetite  and  health.  Father  and  mother 
have  their  dinner  at  twelve,  but  I  take  my  dinner  with 


288     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

their  supper.  It  gives  me  better  command  of  my 
time,  and  I  think  it  suits  my  constitution  better ;  at 
an)'  rate,  I  am  going  to  try  it  for  the  present.  I  in 
tended  to  have  a  garden,  but  they  tell  me  that  the  soil 
needs  to  be  broken  up  for  one  or  two  years  with  corn 
and  potatoes  before  it  will  be  sufficiently  mellow  for 
gardening  purposes,  so  T  possess  my  soul  in  patience, 
and  have  dragged  three  or  four  boxes  on  to  the  top  of 
the  piazza,  and  planted  a  dozen  or  so  different  kinds 
of  seeds  therein,  none  of  which,  to  do  them  justice, 
have  as  yet  shown  the  slightest  intention  of  coming 
up.  Also  I  have  a  bed  of  morning  glory  and  cypress 
vine  which  won't  come  up,  a  bed  of  beets,  full  of 
weeds,  two  tomato  vines,  both  dead,  two  chickens, 
one  alive  and  one  dead  —  five  more  that  pecked  their 
shells  open  and  died  before  they  got  out,  and  seven 
that  have  taken  their  chance  at  living  —  one  calf  who 
looks  at  me  with  his  great  purple,  beautiful  eyes,  and 
makes  a  horrible  piece  of  work  eating  the  potatoes  I 
give  him,  and  a  cow  that  gives  two  great  pans  full 
of  milk  at  one  milking,  and  cream  that  it  takes  five 
hours  to  make  four  pounds  of  butter  from,  let  alone 
the  ill-temper  thrown  in,  which  doesn't  affect  the 
butter.  Our  apple  trees,  and  cherry  trees,  and  peach 
trees,  are  snowy  with  exuberant  blooming,  and  if  the 
worms  don't  come,  nor  anything  else  unfavorable, 
you  shall  have  cider,  apple-sauce,  and  apple  pies,  and 
cider,  and  turnovers,  and  pan-pies,  and  peach  pre 
serves,  and  cherry  puddings,  etc.,  when  you  come 
back.  In  my  cooking  I  know  you  will  be  interested. 
I'm  doing  splendidly.  I've  hunted  up  two  recipes, 
and  bought  ten  cents'  worth  of  yeast.  Festina  lente 
—  but  I'll  give  you  something  nice  after  your  jour 
ney,  if  your  palate  has  not  become  vitiated  with 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  289 

(or  by)  foreign  fare.  My  sister  is  at  home  this  week, 
and  we  are  endeavoring  to  put  the  finishing  touches 
to  the  "  spring  cleaning,"  and  our  house  in  a  state  of 
order.  I  have  about  ruined  my  fingers  with  cutting 
obstinate  carpets,  and  my  wrists  with  lifting  unwieldy 
furniture,  but  I  hope  now  they  will  all  "  stay  put." 
Shall  I  tell  you  some  country  news?  The  dry  weather 
was  so  long  continued  that  the  woods  became  unusu 
ally  combustible,  and  so  went  to  combusting  in  various 
directions,  and  a  great  deal  of  fine  land  was  destroyed 
(the  wood,  I  mean,  not  the  laud),  which  me  judice  is 
a  clear  indication  that  this  generation  ought  to  burn 
coal. 

The  cattle  disease  of  Massachusetts  still  rages.  The 
government  has  called  an  extra  session  of  the  Legis 
lature  on  next  Wednesday  to  meet  the  demands  of 
the  case  —  oh,  and  Mr.  Seward  isn't  nominated,  I 
suppose  you  have  heard  before  now,  and  Mr.  Lincoln 
is.  I  don't  feel  the  least  enthusiasm  myself,  though 
I  believe  mankind  in  general  is  enthused  to  the  last 
degree.  I  think  Washington  takes  one  beyond  the 
pale  of  political  enthusiasm.  One  sees  too  many 
impromptus  cooked  up  there  to  be  greatly  carried 
away  by  an  impromptu.  I'm  glad  of  one  thing,  that 
Greeley,  Blair  &  Co.  didn't  succeed  in  switching  their 
candidate  on  to  the  track.  Chicago  was  in  an  exceed 
ing  state  of  "  high-mindedness  "  —the  N.E.  dele 
gates  were  received  with  great  eclat.  The  greatest 
good  feeling  seems  to  prevail  everywhere,  always 
excepting  Lt.-Gov.  Raymond  and  H.  Greeley,  who 
are  "  at  it  again."  I  dare  say  a  great  many  private 
claws  are  scratching  private  faces.  I  could  have 
wished  Seward  to  be  nominated.  Smoking  or  no 
smoking,  he  is,  it  seems  to  me,  our  ablest  man. 


290     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

They  talk  of  "  honest  old  Abe"  (a  hideous  nickname) 
and  his  "  splitting  rails  and  mauling  Democrats,"  but 
that  isn't  the  very  best  recommendation  a  man  can 
have  for  such  an  office.  However,  maybe  he's  a 
great  man,  I  don't  know.  If  he's  worse  than  J.  B. 
he  is  sublime. 

To  come  back  to  myself  again  —  I've  had  several 
invitations  to  teach  since  I  came  home,  all  of  which  I 
have  "  respectfully  declined."  Mr.  Curtis  wanted 
me  to  go  there,  and  the  Ipswich  people  wanted  me  to 
go  there  —  neither  of  which  I  accepted,  but  like 
"Charlotte"  for  imperturbability  I  "  go  on  cutting 
bread  and  butter."  I  did,  however,  so  far  relax  from 
my  indifference  as  to  accompany  Mr.  Curtis  on  his 
travels  in  search  of  a  teacher ;  went  to  the  Salem  High 
School,  Normal  School,  etc.  Then  we  went  to  Bos 
ton,  Bridge  water,  etc.,  to  take  a  look  at  the  "  School- 
ma'ams  "  —  that's  all  I  have  had  to  do  with  schools 
since  I  came  home,  and  all  I  mean  to  have  to  do  for 
the  present.  I  do  not  write  a  great  deal,  nor  study 
or  read  much,  but  I  hope  to  accomplish  more  after  we 
"get  settled."  At  present,  I  am  "taking  in  wood 
and  water,"  hoping  I  shall  be  able  to  "get  up  steam  " 
a  little  more  by  and  by.  But  I  can't  tell  you  how 
much  I  enjoy  the  unrestraint  of  my  present  life.  The 
wild  flowers  are  very  plenty  and  I  have  half  a  dozen 
glasses  of  them.  I  think  mother  is  almost  as  anxious 
to  hear  from  you  as  I  am.  She  often  asks,  "  Isn't  it 
time  for  a  letter  from  Mr.  Wood  ?  "  I  hoped  to  hear 
news  of  you  by  the  "  Persia,"  but  in  vain.  Perhaps, 
however,  one  has  gone  to  the  "  Intelligencer,"  and 
will  reach  me  in  that  way.  I  want  to  know  things 
that  you  won't  put  into  your  printed  letters,  but  I 
suppose  you  will  be  so  full  of  other  things  that  I  shall 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  291 

have  to  wait  till  yon  get  home  before  knowing  — 
never  mind  —  we  have  a  new  arm-chair  big  enough 
for  you  to  lounge  in  till  you  have  told  your  whole 
story  down  to  its  minutest  details.  The  Lord  send 
you  health,  happiness,  success,  and  a  safe  return  to 
home  and  friends,  in  this  life,  I  mean  (by  the  way, 
"  Peter  Schlemihl"  is  installed  in  a  place  of  honor  in 
the  parlor).  My  dear  friend,  from  my  heart  I  wish 
you  every  blessing  in  this  and  in  all  worlds.  I  am 
sure  you  deserve  it,  if  anybody  does. 
Good-night  and  good-by. 

Gratefully  and  truly  yours, 

MARY  A.  D. 

JUNE  28,   1860. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  W. :  I  received  and  read  your  last 
with  great  pleasure.  I  shall  value  the  little  pansy 
and  its  accompanying  ivy  very  highly.  It  is  some 
thing  to  be  in  the  very  places  hallowed  by  such  asso 
ciations,  only  I  should  want  to  stay  long  enough  to 
get  into  communication  with  the  "  genius  loci  "  —  but 
I  suppose  you  want  to  get  at  something  of  the  genius 
home-y.  I  am  not  in  the  best  humor  in  the  world, 
for  I've  just  had  an  invitation  to  go  to  a  picnic  at 
"The  Laurels,"  somewhere  in  the  vicinity  of  New- 
buryport  —  perhaps  you  know  it — the  Whitticrs  arc 
to  be  there.  My  invitation  came  from  the  Spaldings, 
and  I  didn't  get  it  in  season,  and  had  to  stay  at 
home.  If  it  had  been  a  dinner-party  I  shouldn't  have 
cared,  but  anything  outdoors  I  like.  I  have  received 
your  letters  and  the  printed  one  in  the  "  Intelligencer," 
all  excellent.  My  sister  spent  a  week  with  us  a  while 
ago,  which  we  employed  chiefly  in  shopping  and  tink 
ering.  You  would  be  amused  to  see  the  way  in 


292     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

which  niy  ingenuity  is  showing  itself  off.  I  don't 
think  the  world  has  any  idea  of  my  faculties  in  that 
line.  It  credits  my  brain,  but  has  small  faith  in  my 
hands.  My  brain  is  still  employed  in  "  stirring  up" 
people  about  their  prayer-meetings  and  such  things. 
I  have  written  a  long  article  about  Miss  Miner's 
school,  which  she  was  pleased  to  pronounce  the  best 
account  on  the  whole  which  had  ever  been  written. 
Congress  is  adjourned  and  Mr.  Lovejoy  is  "spout 
ing  "  his  way  to  Massachusetts.  He  writes  me  that 
he  shall  probably  be  here  somewhere  from  the  10th  to 
the  l")th  of  July.  We  don't  often  lionize  people. 
Don't  have  lions  enough  here  to  get  our  hand  in,  and 
I  don't  quite  know  what  we  should  do  witli  our  lion. 
I  shall  shine  a  little  in  his  reflected  glory,  besides 
being  slightly  self-luminous !  I  went  to  a  con 
ference  the  other  day,  the  first  time  in  my  life,  and 
was  quite  interested.  I  think  such  things  are  rather 
pleasant.  They  tend  to  create  a  social  feeling,  a  kind 
of  communion  of  saints.  By  the  way,  a  new  thing  has 
happened  in  the  religious  world  —  at  least  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  one  before.  A  Brahmin  —  Rev.  Mr. 
Gangooly,  I  think  his  name  is  —  has  been  converted 
to  Unitarian  Christianity  and  has  gone  back  to  India 
as  a  propagandist  of  that  faith.  The  Unitarians  had 
quite  a  time  ordaining  him.  The  Japanese  leave 
to-day,  I  believe.  They  must  have  been  extensively 
bored,  and  if  they  don't  think  us  a  race  of  intense 
barbarians,  they  have  less  sagacity  than  I  have  given 
them  credit  for.  The  "  Great  Eastern"  has  steamed 
up  New  York  harbor,  her  old  Ironsides  bulging  with 
an  unheard-of  cargo  of  excitement,  I  don't  doubt. 
New  York  seems  to  be  monopolizing  all  the  "big 
guns."  Portland,  you  know,  made  tremendous  prepa- 


BUSY   YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  293 

rations  last  summer,  arid  this  is  the  way  the  eel 
slipped  out  of  her  hands.  Boston  wanted  the  Japan 
ese,  but  couldn't  get  'em.  It  is  suggested  that  the 
Prince  of  Wales  fall  to  us,  so  that  we  may  have  a 
little  glorification.  I  should  like  to  see  him  myself. 
Why  don't  you  go  to  court?  I  would.  I'd  see  all 
the  crowned  heads  possible.  For  my  part,  I  like 
monarchies.  I  don't  see  but  thut  England  is  just  as 
free  as  we  are.  Anyway,  I  don't  believe  people  would 
stay  in  office  there  after  such  a  rebuke  as  has  been 
administered  to  James  Buchanan  and  Isaac  Toucey 
by  the  House.  J.  B.,  by  the  way,  has  just  vetoed 
the  Homestead  Bill,  showing,  as  the  "  N.  Y.  Tribune" 
says,  that  some  men  have  remarkably  winning  ways  to 
make  people  hate  them !  The  Baltimore  Convention 
had  an  outrageous  time  and  finally  split  in  two. 
Caleb  Gushing,  the  president,  walked  off  and  became 
president  of  the  Southern  part  of  it.  Some  think  that 
the  two  fragments  will  reunite  before  election.  I 
don't  feel  so  enthusiastic  about  such  things  as  I  did 
before  I  went  to  Washington,  though  I  hope  the 
Republicans  will  beat.  With  success  will  come 
plunder,  I  suppose,  and  demoralization  rushing  in 
like  a  flood,  and  then  decay  and  disruption. 

I  was  in  Cambridge  the  other  day  and  heard  Dr. 
Kirk  of  Boston  preach.  I  was  so  much  pleased  that 
after  I  got  home  I  sent  him  a  letter,  which  he  answered 
in  a  very  friendly  and  pleasant  manner.  His  style  is 
conversational  and  his  tone  liberal.  I  had  an  appli 
cation  from  the  Society  of  Inquiry  at  Andover  to 
write  an  "  original  hymn  "  to  be  sung  at  their  annual 
celebration  in  July.  The  inviting  note  took  the 
trouble  to  inform  me  that  I  should  thereby  be  walking 
in  the  footsteps  of  Mrs.  Stowe,  Sigouruey,  etc.  With 


294    GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

my  peculiar  adaptation  to  musical  composition,  and 
my  perfect  "  posting  up  "  on  the  Society  of  Inquiry, 
of  which  I  never  heard  before,  I  concluded  it  would 
be  wrong  to  refuse,  so  I  sent  them  "  a  hymn,"  but  I 
think  it's  a  wonder  if  they  ever  hymu  it.  If  you  were 
here  to-day  I  would  give  you  a  dish  of  strawberries 
and  cream  as  fine  as  anything  you  ever  got  iu  Eng 
land,  or  will  get  in  France,  I  dare  say.  We  don't 
raise  them,  though  I  mean  to  have  a  strawberry-bed 
another  year,  besides  other  things.  My  brother  sont 
them,  but  I  have  a  neighbor,  Mr.  A.  W.  Dodge,  I 
think  I've  spoken  to  you  about  him,  who  has  a  fine 
garden  for  fruits  and  flowers,  and  he  being  very 
neighborly,  I  enter  into  his  labors.  One  of  my  sisters 
is  coming  about  the  first  of  July,  my  Western  brother 
and  his  wife  on  the  tenth,  my  own  sister  on  the  nine 
teenth,  some  friends  from  Brookliue  and  Hartford  on 
or  about  the  twenty-first,  to  stay  a  week  or  fortnight, 
then  we  shall  perhaps  go  to  Vermont  for  about  as 
long,  and  so  you  see  the  summer  is  planned.  It  is  a 
fine  summer  so  far,  not  very  warm,  only  the  canker- 
worms  are  destroying  our  trees,  and  the  bugs  our 
squashes,  and  what  the  canker-worms  and  squash-bugs 
leave  the  rose-bugs  destroy.  I  never  knew  what  a 
precarious  thing  farming  was  till  I  tried. 

I  wish  I  knew  your  plans  a  little  more,  so  that  I 
could  follow  them  on  the  map  and  say,  "  Now  Mr. 
Wood  is  eating  frogs  here,  now  he  is  giving  pence  to 
lazzaroni  there,  now  he  is  jolting  in  a  diligence  over 
such  a  road,  now  he  is  looking  at  a  '  real  Murillo.'  " 
With  all  best  wishes  for  your  continued  health,  suc 
cess,  and  a  safe  return,  and  with  love  from  all  mine  to 
you,  I  am,  Very  truly  yours, 

M.  A.  D. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  295 

JUNE  30,  1860. 

MY  DEAR  MK.  WOOD  :  I  wanted  a  musical  term  the 
other  day,  and  I  hunted  for  it  in  vain  till  I  happened 
to  think  my  "  Future  Life  "  will  have  it,  of  course,  so 
I  turned  to  "  Future  Life,"  and  there  it  was,  sure 
enough,  and  I  was  reminded  anew  of  your  universal 
adaptability !  I  don't  know  whether  that  word  comes 
in  exactly  right  there,  but  it  will  answer  my  purpose. 
The  first  matter  of  interest  centring  in  your  obedient 
servant  is,  that  I  have  taken  a  S.  S.  class.  I  had 
one,  the  first  Sunday,  four,  the  second,  seven,  the 
third,  and  four,  the  fourth,  so  you  see  it  has  a  change 
able  character.  They  are  girls  from  thirteen  to  six 
teen,  and  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  do  something  if  I 
can  get  at  them  long  enough  to  get  hold  of  them. 
Anyway,  as  I  am  not  teaching  week-days,  I  thought 
I  rather  ought  to  teach  Sundays,  if  only  to  keep  my 
hand  in.  My  "Fourth"  was  celebrated  by  two 
letters  from  a  distinguished  friend  of  mine  —  now 
travelling  in  Europe,  very  interesting,  and  very 
instructive,  aud  entertaining  to  the  family.  Scattered 
all  through  the  summer,  like  punctuation  marks,  you 
must  see  flowers  from  my  friends,  and  cherries,  and 
gooseberries,  and  various  fruits  which  I  hope  will 
"  make  your  mouth  water,"  particularly  if  you  can't 
get  at  them  yourself ! 

I  went  to  Salem  with  my  brother  and  sister,  to  the 
museum,  and  revived  my  childish  wonder  at  the  curi 
osities  which  are  no  less  curiosities  to  my  mature  than 
to  my  infant  eyes.  Tuesday  I  went  to  the  anniver 
sary  of  my  Seminary  —  was  considerably  entertained 
at  hearing  extracts  from  my  own  graduating  composi 
tion  incorporated  into  the  essay  of  one  of  the  present 
graduates  whose  sister  was  a  schoolmate  of  mine, 


296     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

and  who  read  mine  aloud  at  my  examination ;  wasn't 
it  funny  ?  And  I  also  met  many  of  my  old  school 
mates.  That  night  on  my  return  home,  I  was  glad 
dened  by  another  letter  from  Mr.  Wood.  I  think  it's 
very  nice  to  have  "  foreign  correspondents,"  particu 
larly  "our  own."  I  also  found  my  sister  Augusta 
home  sooner  than  I  expected,  for  a  visit  of  six  or 
seven  weeks. 

I  have  heard  of  the  Piatts  of  Hartford.  They 
visited  at  Mr.  Gillette's,  whose  daughter  is  now  visit 
ing  me.  You  may  possibly  have  met  them  at  Dr. 
Bailey's.  Mr.  Gillette  was  in  the  Senate  a  while,  and 
they  were  in  Washington  at  the  time.  Lilly  is  a  very 
fine  girl,  one  of  the  simplest,  and  truest,  and  sensiblest, 
I  ever  saw,  thoroughly  noble  and  capable. 

We  have  scoured  Essex  County  quite  thoroughly, 
taking  Wenham,  Topsfield,  Ipswich,  all  the  Beverlys, 
Salem,  Danvers,  etc.,  in  our  way,  and  I  must  tell 
you  that  we  went  to  the  house  and  into  the  very  room 
where  General  Putnam  was  born  ;  were  shown  various 
curiosities,  his  autograph,  a  copy  of  the  real  old 
Stamp  Act,  a  chip  from  the  cave  that  he  drew  the 
wolf  out  of,  his  portrait,  etc.  I  assure  you  Essex 
County  is  well  worth  looking  at ;  so  after  you  have 
completed  the  tour  of  Europe,  perhaps  you  may  like 
to  make  a  "tour  around  my  garden."  Perhaps  I 
ought  to  mention  that  I've  been  in  the  ditch  twice 
lately,  and  so  encountered  perhaps  as  much  peril,  and 
certainly  more  harm,  than  you  have  in  your  wander 
ings,  as  my  terribly  blackened  embroidery  bears  sad 
witness  ;  but  flowers  and  mosses  must  be  picked  even 
if  people  fall  into  the  ditch.  Lilly  has  put  the  ivy 
and  the  pansy  that  you  sent  from  Melrose  into  a 
state  of  preservation,  surrounding  them  with  some 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  297 

harebells  that  Whittier  picked  for  me  last  summer, 
and  I  am  going  to  have  them  framed.  I  think  they 
will  look  very  pretty.  I  can  only  give  you  the  veriest 
outline  of  affairs,  reserving  the  rest,  as  you  do,  till 
you  get  home,  which  may  you  in  good  time  do,  with 
body  and  mind  refreshed  and  invigorated  for  a  new 
lease  of  life ! 

AUGUST  30,  1860. 

MY  DEAR  :  Not  one  word  from  you  since  the 
twenty-fourth  of  July.  Has  "  Mounsen  "  swallowed 
you  up  quick  ?  Are  you  overwhelmed  in  the  snow- 
heaps  of  St.  Bernard?  Are  you  verifying  your  de 
scriptions  of  Madame  Jura  and  the  Jungfrau?  Are 
you  enamored  of  life  in  some  old  castle  that,  "like 
an  eagle's  nest,  hangs  on  the  crest  of  purple  Appe- 
nine "  ?  I  will  suppose  that  you  have  not  sundered 
all  home  ties,  but  that  one  cord  is  left  along  which 
a  kindred  life  may  still  pulsate.  So  on  Tuesday, 
July  31,  Lilly  Gillette  went  home,  and  that  next 
da}'  my  sister  and  her  friend  went  away,  and  I  was 
left  "  in  maiden  widowhood  to  weep,"  but  Mr.  Derby 
had  taken  pity  on  my  loneliness  and  sent  me  a  very 
interesting  new  novel,  "  The  Household  of  Bouverie," 
the  access  of  which  household  consoled  me  for  the 
departure  of  my  own.  The  next  day  I  drove  over  to 
the  Ponds  to  attend  a  field  meeting  of  the  Essex 
Institute,  to  which  I  had  been  specially  invited.  It 
roams  around  and  collects  toads,  flowers,  bugs,  and 
such  small  deer  all  the  morning,  and  comes  together 
and  talks  about  'ern  all  the  afternoon,  with  a  little 
flirting  thrown  in  by  way  of  spice.  Several  gentle 
men  were  introduced  to  me,  among  others  a  Mr. 
Upham,  formerly  M.C.  from  Salem  or  Danvers.  He 


298     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

had  been  at  Dr.  Bailey's,  very  likely  you  may  have 
seen  him.  I  walked  home,  it  was  so  pleasant  I 
couldn't  resist  the  temptation,  and  I  wouldn't  if  I 
could.  Jt  is  only  about  three  miles,  and  I  do  so 
like  to  walk,  particularly  alone.  The  next  day  I 
made  the  tour  of  Hamilton  for  another  walk.  The 
day  after  I  bought  two  pounds  of  candy  and 
treated  the  school  children  as  they  went  home. 
Sunday  one  of  my  old  schoolmates  preached,  a  boy 
that  has  come  up  from  the  ranks  and  is,  I  rather 
suspect,  going  to  be  heard  of  in  a  local  way.  His 
name  is  Gnstavus  Pike,  and  he  is  rather  original. 
Aug.  7,  I860,  is  memorable  as  the  day  on  which  I 
examined  a  horse  with  a  view  to  purchase,  but  as  the 
price  was  twenty  dollars,  and  my  investments  could 
not  go  above  twelve,  I  concluded  to  invest  in  another 
direction.  Besides,  I  didn't  think  it  would  be  safe 
for  so  inexperienced  a  rider  as  I  am  to  begin  on  fast 
horses.  August  9,  one  of  the  friends  whom  I  met  in 
New  Hampshire,  in  my  rambles  last  summer,  "  turned 
up."  He's  a  minister  and  thinks  my  style  is  good, 
but  my  theology  needs  screwing  up !  Now  you 
know,  Mr.  "Wood,  that  the  theology  of  my  articles  is 
the  very  point,  but  I  am  afraid  you  and  I  will  have  to 
put  up  with  such  things  as  best  we  may.  Thursda}~, 
9,  our  friend  Derby  walked  up  behind  his  brown 
beard  and  made  himself  generally  agreeable.  Know 
ing  no  other  way  to  entertain  him,  I  trotted  him  out 
—  took  him  to  Brown's  Hill  the  first  night,  to  see  the 
prospect  and  the  sunset,  both  of  which  he  admired 
beyond  my  hopes.  Friday  we  put  some  luncheon  and 
books  in  a  basket  and  walked  over  to  the  ponds  and 
spent  the  day,  which  ought  to  have  been  to  a  New 
Yorker  like  a  breathing-hole  to  a  seal,  and  I  rather 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  299 

think  it  was.  Saturday  we  went  to  Newburyport  and 
called  up  "  Sir  Rohan's  Ghost,"  which  was  a  very  pretty 
fair-haired,  smooth-faced  ghost,  and  roared  us  very 
gently,  and  in  the  afternoon  the  ghost's  friend,  a  Mr. 
Spofford,  a  young  lawyer  of  Boston  and  Member  of 
the  House,  took  the  Ghost  and  us  to  drive,  over  to 
Whittier's  in  Amesbury,  but  unfortunately  a  broken 
bridge  smashed  between  us  and  our  goal,  so  we  were, 
perforce,  content  to  make  the  sweep  of  Newburyport, 
which  didn't,  however,  require  any  great  resignation, 
seeing  we  had  a  ghost,  a  representative,  a  publisher, 
and  Yours  very  respectfully  to  fall  back  on.  Sun 
day  we  went  to  church  and  Mr.  D.  enjoyed  the  fleet 
ing  honor  of  figuring  as  my  "beau."  Monday  morn 
ing  he  left  in  a  fog,  and  in  the  afternoon  we  took  a 
drive  to  Manchester  and  picked  berries  on  the  way, 
Alvin  amusing  us  with  Zouaveing  according  to  the 
latest  fashion.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Derby 
and  I  called  on  the  Spaldings  at  N.,  but  he  was  away, 
and  she  had  a  sick  baby,  and  we  only  stopped  a  few 
moments.  Friday,  17,  was  diversified  in  my  annals 
by  going  to  Bull  Brook  with  twenty  or  so  people  from 
Beverly  in  a  big  furniture  wagon  to  get  berries  and 
have  a  dinner.  True  to  our  instincts,  we  got  the 
dinner  first.  The  men  took  the  lead.  Two  fires  were 
built,  coffee  made,  a  lobster  chowder  "got  up,"  and 
crackers,  cheese,  cake,  pie,  etc.,  spread  on  some 
boards  under  an  awning  and  we  had  a  grand  dinner. 
Afterwards  we  dispersed  for  berries  and  with  those 
we  picked  and  those  we  bought  came  home  laden  with 
spoils.  I  rode  home  on  the  outside  with  the  driver, 
and,  you  will  be  interested  to  know,  effected  a  con 
quest  !  One  has  to  make  the  most  of  everything  in 
the  country,  because  there  isn't  a  great  deal  of  raw 


300     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

material  to  operate  on.  Sunday,  August  19,  the 
True  Church  put  off  its  robes  and  held  forth  in  our 
meeting- house  in  the  person  of  John  Cotton  Smith, 
formerly  of  Boston,  now  of  New  York,  and  I  liked 
the  True  Church  very  well.  All  that  week  was  devoted 
to  camp  meeting  and  there  wasn't  a  clear  day  in  it. 
It  was  fog,  rain,  and  clouds  with  scarcely  an  interval. 
Methodism  was  fairly  put  in  soak.  I  went  up  and 
viewed  the  grounds  on  Monday,  and  on  Thursday 
stayed  through  the  sermon,  though  I  didn't  hear  very 
much  of  it,  being  too  far  off.  Met  some  friends 
there,  Mr.  Spalding,  of  N.,  among  others.  Friday  we 
started  to  go  again,  but  got  as  far  as  the  station  and 
found  it  so  interesting  to  see  the  crowds  come  in  and 
go  out  that  we  spent  our  fare  money  for  apples  and 
stayed  there  all  the  morning,  and,  moreover,  —  don't 
tell  any  one  what  a  "  loafer  "  I  am,  —  went  up  again  at 
evening  to  see  it  again.  Some  of  the  Methodists  re 
mained  over  Sunday  and  groaned  a  little  at  our  even 
ing  meetings.  Last  Tuesday  we  went  to  the  beach 
and  splashed  in  the  water,  and  antic-ed  on  the  sand, 
and  had  a  fine  time.  I  do  like  the  water.  When  my 
ship  comes  home  from  sea  I  mean  to  build  a  house  on 
the  sand. 

Our  beets  and  parsnips  have  come  up  beautifully, 
my  morning-glories  and  sweet-peas  are  out,  and  I 
have  the  plan  of  a  garden  for  next  year  all  drawn. 
Also,  I  have  obtained  several  recipes  for  making 
bread,  so  you  see  I  am  fulfilling  my  early  promise  of 
being  a  successful  horticulturist  and  cook.  I  had  one 
"Intelligencer"  with  a  letter  from  you  in  it,  a  few 
weeks  ago,  but  I  want  to  hear  from  you  personally. 
Only  think,  I  suppose  I  shall  only  write  you  one  more 
letter  before  you  will  be  coming  home  —  unless  indeed 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  301 

you  conclude  to  forswear  the  land  of  your  birth  and 
take  up  the  standard  of  Garibaldi.  Don't ;  America 
"  hath  need  of  thee,"  and  I  want  you  to  see  my  gar 
den  that  is  to  be. 

Good-by  —  which  means  God  be  with  you. 
Yours  most  truly, 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

SEPTEMBER  6,  1860. 

Friday  afternoon  mother  and  I  poked  off  to  pre 
paratory  lecture  and  endeavored  to  get  into  a  suitable 
frame  of  mind  for  Sunday.  Brother  M.  was,  as  usual, 
substantial,  logical,  terse,  but  not  brilliant,  The 
weight  of  his  discourses  doesn't  allow  him  to  cut 
capers.  After  lecture,  a  flock  of  Old  Simmons 
Place-ers  lighted  in  the  parlor,  and  preyed  upon  us 
half  an  hour  or  so  —  well-enough  people,  though  I 
don't  see  any  particular  object  in  such  people's  being 
born,  anyway.  Sunday  went  to  Wenham  in  the 
morning,  and  it  being  Communion  Sunday,  Mr. 
Morel ough  came  down  from  his  metaphysical  heights 
and  the  pulpit,  and  treated  us  to  a  few  "  plain  and 
familiar  remarks  "  —  quite  familar —  "  intimit "  even. 

HAMILTON,  October  22. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  As  you  are  so  fond  of  letters, 
and  as  I  have  just  finished  one  to  Mr.  Dexter  which 
I  don't  see  how  you  can  get  at,  and  as  I  am  going  soon 
to  write  one  to  Dr.  Kirk,  which  you  must  also  deny 
yourself,  —  why  I  thought  I  would  write  you  a  little 
wisp  of  a  letter  just  to  comfort  you.  I  dreamed 
Saturday  night  that  you  came  home  that  night.  I 
thought  Maria  must  have  treated  you  ill  in  some  way. 
I  suppose  what  made  me  think  that  was  because  she 


302     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

did  throw  the  dish-cloth  at  me.  However,  I  suppose 
you  never  aggravated  her  about  the  "  Stranger  within 
thy  Gates.  "  I  don't  dare  say  the  whole  of  it, 
even  twenty  miles  off.  As  soon  as  you  were  gone  I 
turned  and  went,  too,  —  straight  home,  into  the  house, 
changed  my  boots,  and  started  off  for  Ipswich.  It 
was  seventeen  minutes  past  nine  when  I  started  and 
it  was  twenty-five  minutes  past  ten  when  I  got  to  the 
Ipswich  Station.  The  Prince  came  out  and  I  had  a 
good  fair  full  look  at  him  —  though  not  half  long 
enough,  of  course.  I  was  more  pleased  than  I  had 
expected  to  be.  Now  for  home  experiences.  We 
"  still  live  "  as  you  judge.  I  toasted  bread  Saturday 
night  for  supper — no  it  was  Sunday  morning. 
Father  took  to  frying  pork.  I  sat  down  to  read  the 
paper  while  waiting  —  forgot  the  bread  —  smelt  it 
burning,  but  never  thought  what  it  was  —  and,  oh, 
my !  wasn't  it  black.  We  had  quite  a  search  for  the 
cheese,  but  couldn't  find  it.  I  concluded  at  last  that 
it  must  have  walked  off.  I  am  sure  it  had  every  fa 
cility.  It  appeared,  however,  this  morning.  I  guess 
father  whistled  to  it.  I  skimmed  the  milk  this  morn 
ing  ns  directed — thought  the  cream  wasn't  very 
thick,  but  supposed  it  must  be  all  right,  ascertained 
afterwards  that  father  had  taken  out  the  pan  I  was 
to  skim  and  had  put  this  in  its  place,  so  I  had  been 
skimming  last  night's  milk.  No  harm  done,  though. 
I  just  went  down  and  skimmed  the  right  pan  and  put 
the  other  back  "  to  rise  again,"  as  the  poet  says. 
Seeing  you  were  gone,  father  and  I  took  the  liberty 
to  stop  at  home  from  meeting  yesterday.  Your  to 
mato  preserves  continue  good.  I  wish  you  had  put 
your  quinces  in  something  else,  though.  It's  consider 
able  trouble  for  me  to  tie  and  untie  that  string  every 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON      303 

time  I  want  to  go  to  'em  !  Ma'am  ?  Father  suggested 
to  me  to-night  that  the  roast  beef  had  been  gnawed.  I 
looked  at  it  and  considered  that  it  had  been  —  very 
decidedly.  Yon  may  know  that  it  must  have  been 
something  of  a  gnaw,  or  he  wouldn't  have  confessed 
that  it  had  been  gnawed  at  all.  The  mice  had,  how 
ever,  the  good  sense  to  gnaw  only  the  solid  fat,  leav 
ing  the  lean  untouched.  So  we're  no  worse  off,  and 
the  mice  are  better  —  which  is  a  good  thing  all 
round.  We  had  a  milk  dinner  to-day  to  which 
father  did  full  justice  in  the  cellar. 

Well,  mother,  don't  hurry  home.  Stay  another 
week  if  you  wish.  Stay  the  roast  beef  out  anyway. 
When  the  pies  are  gone  I'll  make  some  cup-custards. 

OCTOBER  31. 

I  got  along  very  well  keeping  house.  I  made  the 
most  delicious  Indian  cakes  you  ever  ate,  they  rose 
like  a  balloon  and  went  down  like  lead  —  (down 
throats) ,  but  they  did  not  sink  into  the  stomach  like 
lead.  I  made  some  cup-custards  too  —  very  good  — 
and  boiled  potatoes.  That's  all  I  originated. 
Father  cooked  the  pork  and  beefsteak.  I  have  advised 
him  to  hire  himself  out  as  maid-of-all-work.  I  think 
he  might  perhaps  finally  attain  to  his  long-coveted  in 
come  of  a  "quarter  of  a  dollar  a  day."  Tell  Hul- 
dah  I  got  home  with  my  yeast  all  safe,  but  it  was  only 
by  the  most  strenuous  exertions.  When  I  got  to 
Mrs.  Gooch's  I  gave  it  to  the  servant,  who  took  it 
down  cellar.  All  through  Boston  I  swung  it  by  the 
neck,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  passers-by.  In  the 
cars  the  only  place  seemed  to  be  close  by  the  stove, 
so  I  held  it  up  to  the  window.  When  I  got  home  I 
set  it  down  on  the  piazza  till  I  made  the  bread,  and 


304     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

then  I  pulled  out  the  cork  and  was  half  suffocated 
with  frantic  yeast.  My  bread  was  quite  a  success, 
still  I  don't  think  it  quivered  quite  as  much  as  Hul- 
dah's. 

We've  had  Quarterly  Fast  to-day,  and  I  did  violence 
to  myself — and  went  all  day — in  the  vestry.  Mr. 
Southgate  preached  two  excellent  sermons.  Brother 
M.  made  a  pastoral  call  after  meeting  and  labored 
with  me  on  the  subject  of  going  to  meeting  all  day  and 
especially  to  prayer-meetings.  I  told  him  I  would 
do  any  amount  of  praying  for  him  at  home,  but  I 
didn't  like  to  go  to  prayer- meeting.  I  was  very  glad 
of  the  opportunity  to  express  my  views  because  I 
think  he's  had  it  all  his  own  way  so  long  that  he's 
rather  forgotten  to  look  on  the  other  side.  We 
parted  very  good  friends.  Hurrah  !  We've  just  had 
a  torchlight  procession.  Have  'em  every  night  "  ee'n 
jist.  "  Father  goes  to  all  the  political  meetings.  I 
prime  him  before  he  goes — after  all,  I  expect  he'll 
go  and  vote  for  the  wrong  man.  My  pen  makes  me 
nervous  and  I  can't  write  much.  I  ruined  my  gold 
pen  yesterday. 

NOVEMBER  10. 

At  Salem,  November  3, 1  heard  Charles  Sumner,  Wil 
son,  and  Mr.  Alley.  Saw  Mrs.  Alley  to  speak  to  her, 
though  only  across  several  heads.  Gen.  Wilson  saw 
me  and  came  up  into  the  gallery.  Did  you  see  by  the 
papers  that  the  Pine-St.  Fair  netted  $3,700.  I  wrote 
twelve  letters  for  their  post-office,  besides  making 
several  articles,  with  mother's  help.  I  took  Ettie 
home  with  me,  but  Mr.  D.  took  charge  of  us  both, 
took  Ettie  in  his  arms  out  of  the  cars  and  carried 
her  to  Mr.  S's  carriage,  which  took  us  all  in.  Ettie 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  3Q5 

is  as  happy  ns  a  kitten,  and  as  round  as  an  apple. 
She  seems  to  be  very  healthy.  I  am  expecting  Mr. 
Wood  here  the  first  of  next  week.  He  will  probably 
be  in  Boston  on  Thursday  or  Friday  —  sailed,  or  was 
to  sail,  in  the  "  Europa"  on  December  1. 

Father's  news :  Two  cows  at  home,  a  year-old 
critter  and  two  cows  boarding  out,  that's  my  stock. 
(Doesn't  say  whether  they  are  at  the  Revere  or  the 
Tremont  House.)  Ain't  got  any  horse.  Hay's 
twenty  dollars  a  ton  here.  Farmers  have  a  good 
time  here  —  cider,  enough  of  it,  two  dollars  a  barrel  — 
no  complaint  of  money  among  the  farmers  —  pota 
toes  half  a  dollar  a  bushel  —  all  have  a  good  time 
here  sellin'  —  I'll  warrant  there's  forty  tons  of  hay,  a 
good  many  days,  goes  past  the  house  here  in  a  day  — 
corn  eighty- five  cents  a  bushel,  farmers  have  a  better 
time  than  mechanics  do  nowadays. 

On  my  own  account  I  desire  to  give  you  two  bits 
of  information.  One  is  that  father  asserts  he  is  not 
a  farmer  —  and  the  other  is  that  he  chuckles  to  him 
self  and  us,  but  not  to  you,  —  "  I'll  tell  him  what  a 
good  time  the  farmers  have,  and  that'll  make  him 
want  to  go  back  to  his  own."  Mother  says  she  shall 
recommence  letter- writing  after  I  go  to  W.,  and  shall 
remember  you  among  the  rest  —  is  quite  out  of  that 
line  now,  but  wants  you  to  write  just  the  same  —  is 
quite  as  much  surprised  to  hear  from  you  in  Louis 
ville  as  she  would  to  have  heard  you  were  in  Minne 
sota.  Father  wants  me  to  unload  a  part  of  the  forty 
tons  of  hay,  thinks  it  is  rather  too  high  reckoning. 

BOSTON. 

Our  party  is  increased  by  Judge  Nicholls  of  Hart 
ford,  and  the  rest  are  expected  to-day.  The  steamer 


306     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

sails  at  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  Yesterday 
morning  we  all  went  down  on  board.  It  is  very  in 
viting,  and  I  wanted  to  go  more  than  ever,  only  the 
state-rooms  look  so  small,  and  I  do  not  like  the  being 
shut  up  so  in  a  box.  The  dining-room,  however,  is 
large  and  pleasant,  and  the  deck  is  a  fine  place.  Mr. 
Storrs  has  bought  camp  chairs  so  that  they  will  be 
quite  independent.  He  has  also  provided  himself 
with  tea,  lemons,  and  crackers.  Rev.  Gilbert  Haven 
was  with  us,  yesterday,  and  went  down  to  the  steamer. 
Afterwards  we  went  over  to  Charlestown  to  Bunker 
Hill.  We  did  not  go  up  the  monument,  but  went 
inside  the  lower  part.  We  also  went  through  the 
Quincy  and  Faneuil  Markets,  and  I  wish  you  would 
go  there  some  time  when  you  are  here.  The  New 
Yorkers  say  they  have  nothing  equal  to  the  Quiucy 
Market  iu  New  York.  I  thought  I  would  be  very 
careful  of  my  money  the  first  night  I  was  here,  and 
take  it  to  bed  with  me,  so  I  laid  it  out  ready  for  that 
purpose  on  the  table,  and  never  thought  of  it  again 
till  I  saw  it  lying  there  some  time  the  next  morning, 
so  it  was  all  safe,  just  as  well. 

NEW  YORK,  February  7,  1861. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  am  so  far  safe  at  least,  ar 
rived  last  night. 

I  have  written  a  letter  already  giving  an  account 
of  myself  up  to  the  time  of  my  disappearance  at  the 
B.  &  W.  depot.  You  must  send  this  with  the  other 
when  you  have  read  it,  as  I  closed  rather  abruptly. 
I  reached  Hartford  a  quarter  past  one.  I  was  to  stop 
at  Merideu.  The  New  York  train  was  late,  but 
we  got  to  New  York  before  dark.  Mr.  Derby  was  at 
the  depot  to  meet  me,  and  I  got  here  safe,  only  some- 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  307 

what  tired.  "We  had  arranged  last  night  a  grand 
skating  party  on  the  Park  for  this  evening,  but  un 
fortunately  the  day  has  set  in  rainy,  and  so  that  and 
the  ice  are  broken  up.  A  letter  from  Leander 
Lippincott,  and  a  paper  from  Mr.  Wood  awaited  me 
here.  The  former  informed  me  what  delights  awaited 
me  if  I  had  only  come  to  see  his  new  house  and  new 
trousers.  Grace  is  away  now,  and  I  think  I  shall  not 
go  there  till  I  return  from  Washington.  About  going 
to  Washington,  the  people  here  think  there  is  no 
danger.  I  should  not  wonder  if  Mr.  Derby  should  go 
on  with  me.  I  intend  to  write  to  Mr.  Wood  to-day, 
and  shall  decide  definitely  according  to  his  answer.  If 
I  go  I  think  I  shall  go  in  about  a  week,  but  shall 
probably  write  to  you  first.  I  shall  not  go  alone. 

FEBRUARY  14,  1861. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  You  see  I  am  safely  here.  I 
thought  on  the  whole  I  wouldn't  write  till  I  got  here, 
because  you  would  be  worrying  from  then  till  you 
heard  again.  Now  you,  at  least,  will  know  that  the 
journey  is  safely  accomplished.  I  see  by  my  "Diary" 
that  I  wrote  to  you  last  Thursday,  when  it  was  rainy 
and  I  did  not  go  out.  I  received  that  day  the  long- 
looked-for  letter  from  Mrs.  Bailey,  urging  me  to  come 
on  as  soon  as  I  could.  The  next  day  it  was  excess 
ively  cold,  so  that  we  did  not  stir  out  of  doors,  but 
Mr.  Fitch  bought  some  parlor  skates  and  sent  them 
to  us,  and  we  had  fine  fun  with  them.  They  are  like 
skates,  only  with  four  little  gutta  percha  wheels  where 
the  steel  runners  are  in  common  skates.  Saturday  it 
was  milder,  and  we  went  up  to  the  Central  Park.  Mr. 
Derby  never  skated,  but  Mr.  Fitch  is  quite  an  adept 
at  it,  and  he  took  hold  of  one  arm,  and  a  Mr.  Boyce, 


308     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

a  friend  of  his  whom  we  met  there,  took  the  other, 
and  so  I  got  on  finely,  and  indeed  went  quite  by  my 
self.  The  sight  was  well  worth  seeing,  and  not  to  be 
conceived  without  seeing.  It  was  estimated  that  there 
were  thirty  thousand  people  on  the  ice  at  the  time  we 
were,  and,  according  to  the  tally,  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  during  the  day.  When  we  came  to  go  home 
we  could  not  find  the  coachman.  After  looking  about 
some  time,  Mr.  Fitch  put  us  inside,  mounted  the  coach 
himself,  and  drove  us  home !  I  believe  we  live  about 
three  miles  from  the  Park.  We  drove  a  little  out  of 
the  way  to  drop  Mrs.  Derby's  sister,  and  when  we  got 
home  there  was  the  coachman  just  ringing  the  door 
bell.  He  must  have  walked  or  run  pretty  fast  to  keep 
up  with  us,  but  he  was  thoroughly  frightened,  and 
begged  Fitch  not  to  say  anything  about  it.  He  had 
gone  down  to  see  the  skaters  when  he  ought  not  to 
have  left  his  coach,  and  so  missed  us.  After  dinner, 
that  is  in  the  evening,  Mr.  Derby,  Fitch,  and  I  went 
down  to  the  Dusseldorf  Gallery  of  Paintings,  which 
is  owned  by  Mr.  Derby's  brother.  It  is  in  a  new  and 
very  fire  building.  Of  course  I  cannot  describe  the 
pictures  to  you,  nor  would  it  interest  you  if  I  could. 
On  our  way  home  —  we  walked  for  the  sake  of  seeing 
the  streets  in  the  evening,  but  had  rode  down  —  Mr. 
Fitch  wanted  me  to  go  into  one  of  the  jeweller's  shops 
to  see  the  pretty  things,  and  then  he  insisted  on  my 
choosing  something,  that  they  had  dealings  with  the 
man,  it  would  all  come  back  again,  and  he  could  afford 
to  be  generous,  so,  taking  it  all  very  naturally,  as  I 
think  I  have  reason  to  do  by  this  time,  I  selected  a 
very  pretty  morning  breast-pin,  which,  you  know,  I 
have  been  wanting  for  some  time.  It  turned  out  that 
a  pair  of  earrings  went  with  the  pin,  so  I  got  the  ear- 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  309 

rings  too,  which  I  shall  have  turned  into  pins,  and 
now,  as  I  have  both  pins  and  scarf,  I  don't  really 
know  what  I  do  want  next.  On  our  way  home  Mr. 
Derby  bought  me  a  copy  of  Tennyson's  works,  two 
volumes,  in  blue  and  gold.  Sunday  Mr.  Prince  went 
to  church  with  me  in  the  morning,  at  Dr.  Bellows's, 
Unitarian  ;  in  the  evening  at  Dr.  Chapin's,  Universal- 
ist.  Monday  we  devoted  to  seeing  New  York,  just 
the  outside  of  it.  Went  clear  down  Broadway,  the 
principal  street,  to  the  Battery.  Tuesday  morning, 
at  eleven,  I  started  for  Washington.  Mr.  Fitch  had 
ascertained  the  evening  before  about  the  trains,  and 
went  to  the  depot  with  me,  bought  my  tickets,  and 
when  he  went  to  get  my  trunk  checked,  found  that  the 
train  only  went  through  to  Philadelphia.  The  alter 
native  was  presented  of  going  back  and  starting  the 
next  morning  at  six  o'clock,  or  going  on  to  Philadel 
phia  and  remaining  over  night.  I  concluded  to  go  on 
to  Philadelphia,  passed  a  very  pleasant  evening,  sat 
up  till  about  twelve.  The  train  left  the  next  morning 
at  quarter  past  eight.  We  all  got  up,  had  an  early 
breakfast,  and  then  Mr.  L.  and  I  started  again  for 
Washington.  Kept  alone  as  far  as  Baltimore,  when 
a  gentleman  who  had  sat  near  me  all  the  way  asked 
me  if  I  was  going  on  to  Washington,  etc.  Well,  I 
can't  tell  you  all  about  it,  for  it's  a  very  long  story 
from  beginning  to  end  —  too  long  to  write,  but  I'll 
tell  you  when  I  see  you,  only  he  was  a  Democratic 
postmaster  and  editor  of  a  Democratic  newspaper  in 
Massachusetts,  and  we  had  a  spicy  talk,  which  ended 
in  his  wanting  to  send  me  his  paper,  which  of  course 
required  me  to  give  him  my  name,  and  wanted  me  to 
send  him  a  paper  from  Washington,  whicli  I  promised 
to  do. 


310     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

FEBRUARY  19. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER:  When  I  closed  my  last  letter 
I  meant  to  write  to  you  before  this,  but  my  attention 
is  called  in  so  many  different  directions  that  I  find  it 
very  difficult  to  do  any  one  thing  in  particular.  I 
received  a  letter  from  Augusta  yesterday  informing 
me  of  the  death  of  little  Ettie.  I  was  almost  as  much 
surprised  as  if  I  had  not  known  of  her  illness.  It, 
was  so  long  that  I  supposed  she  was  quite  out  of  dan 
ger.  The  letter  having  to  go  to  New  York  and  be 
remailed,  was  longer  than  usual  in  reaching  me.  I 
got  it  Saturday,  not  yesterday.  T  shall  try  to  write 
to  Brown  and  Mary  in  a  day  or  two.  I  have  sent 
some  verses  to  the  ' '  Congregationalist "  which  I 
thought  might  be  pleasant  to  them. 

I  believe  I  left  3'ou  rather  abruptly  after  I  left  the 
cars  on  Wednesday  night.  Mr.  Wood  met  me  at  the 
station,  and  Marcel  just  outside  of  it,  and  we  went 
directly  to  Mrs.  Bailey's.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pike,  with 
their  daughter,  are  boarding  here.  Thursday  we  went 
to  the  Supreme  Court  and  to  Congress  for  a  little 
while,  but  it  was  not  interesting,  and  I  came  home  and 
went  to  writing.  I  had  to  go  by  Dr.  Gale's  to  take 
my  letter  to  the  post-office,  and  she  threw  up  the  win 
dow  and  made  me  come  in.  Then  we  walked  a  little 
while  and  she  came  home  with  me.  I  found  that  Sena 
tor  Bingham,  ex-Governor  of  Michigan,  had  called  to 
see  me  while  I  was  out.  He  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  me  the  few  minutes  I  was  in  the  Senate.  I  was 
sorry,  because  he  is  rather  a  favorite  of  mine.  Satur 
day  I  met  De  Naise  on  the  street,  who  informed  me 
that  I  was  in  no  danger,  as  he  had  made  arrangements 
to  take  all  his  lady  friends  to  Stamboul  in  case  of 
outbreak.  Sunday  I  went  to  church  in  the  A.M. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  31 1 

Governor  Chase,  and  Wm.  Pitt  Fessenden  of  Maine, 
were  here  in  the  course  of  the  day,  both  distinguished 
rnen,  whom  it  is  worth  while  to  see.  To-day  I  am 
preparing  to  go  to  the  Capitol.  The  city  is  undoubt 
edly  quite  safe.  The  cannon  are  ready  to  fire,  the 
artillery  companies  stationed,  and  the  soldiers  patrol 
ling  the  streets.  The  men  were  under  arms,  and  the 
horses  saddled  all  day  last  Wednesday  (the  day  the 
votes  were  counted).  The  railroads  were  guarded. 

FEBRUARY  26,  1861. 

Went  to  the  Senate  in  the  morning  with  Mrs. 
Pike  and  Mary  and  Mrs.  Bailey.  Governor  Biugham 
came  up  in  the  gallery  to  see  me  and  made  quite  a 
long  call.  One  of  the  senators  spoke  to  him  from 
the  floor  and  told  him  to  come  down  and  vote,  but  he 
wouldn't  hurry,  said  he'd  get  down  time  enough  to 
vote,  and  kept  on  talking  with  me.  Then  they  called 
again,  and  finally  I  got  nervous  and  made  him  go.  In 
the  evening  went  to  the  Senate  to  hear  Mr.  Wilson's 
speech.  He  read  it,  and  not  very  well,  though  it  was 
a  good  speech.  Sunday  I  went  to  Dr.  Butler's  in  the 
morning.  Mr.  Fred  Pike,  our  Mr.  Pike's  brother, 
member-elect  of  the  next  Congress,  and  who  came  on 
with  Mr.  Hamlin,  was  here  at  dinner,  Mr.  Hale  to 
tea,  and  Mr.  Wood  in  the  evening,  as  he  went  home 
from  church. 

Mary  Pike  and  I  went  to  the  Capitol.  Mr.  Hale 
had  invited  us  to  come  up  and  send  in  our  cards  to  him 
into  the  Senate  Chamber,  and  he  would  show  us 
around.  We  visited  the  Vice-President's  room,  the 
marble  room  ( the  finest  in  the  Capitol,  I  think),  the 
various  committee  rooms,  etc.  Mr.  Bingham  wanted  to 
show  me  the  Agricultural  Department,  and  the  Inau- 


312     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

gural  preparations.  Wednesday  Mrs.  Love  joy  called. 
Mrs.  Bailey  and  I  went  to  the  Congress  greenhouses 
with  her  and  then  to  the  House.  Mr.  Sitzky  came  to 
me  in  the  gallery  and  we  had  a  running  fire  for  a  while 
—  though  he  is  too  modest  to  be  very  pugnacious.  Mr. 
Fogg,  the  New  Hampshire  editor,  whom  I  met  last 
winter,  walked  home  with  us  and  stopped  to  dinner. 
Governor  Chase  of  Ohio,  ex-Senator,  and  just-made 
Senator  and  probably  Cabinet-minister,  dined  with  us 
also  and  sat  next  to  me  at  my  right  hand,  a  fine-look 
ing,  upright,  and  very  agreeable  man  —  gave  us  a 
taste  of  the  speech  which  he  had  just  made  in  the 
Peace  Convention.  Thursday  Mrs.  Dr.  Butler  and 
Helen  called  and  invited  us  all  there  on  Saturday 
evening  to  meet  Dr.  Lord,  a  gentleman  who  is  deliver 
ing  a  course  of  very  interesting  and  instructive  lect 
ures  (historical).  Mrs.  Bailey  and  I  came  out  and 
paid  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Vice-President  Hamlin.  She  is  a 
young  woman  about  twenty-five,  dark  hair  and  eyes, 
milky,  soft  skin,  gentle  and  modest,  rather  pretty,  but 
not  quite  healthy  enough  to  be  as  pretty  as  she  has 
the  capacity  for  being.  Mr.  Pike  and  his  brother, 
the  new  Member,  came  while  we  were  there,  and  we 
were  quite  gay.  Friday  at  the  Senate  in  the  A.M. 
Saturday  Mr.  Mitchell  of  Missouri,  who  had  come  to 
town  the  day  before,  called  on  me  to  renew  our  last 
winter's  acquaintance.  Before  he  was  gone,  Bell 
Naylor  called  to  ask  me  to  go  to  the  Capitol  with  her, 
which  I  did.  Dr.  Butler  sat  in  the  seat  behind  us, 
and  enlivened  the  dreary  remarks  of  "Joe  Lane"  with 
entertaining  conversation.  Mr.  Gallagher  of  Ken 
tucky  called  in  the  evening,  Dr.  Stone  of  Boston 
(he  visited  the  Baileys,  not  me,  I  never  saw  him  be 
fore),  and  Judge  Huntington,  who  is  always  a  gentle- 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  ,313 

man  and  whose  visits  arc  always  pleasant.  Mr.  Love- 
joy  called  and  spent  an  hour  or  two  with  me  after 
dinner,  and  I  read  to  him  a  little  book  that  Dr.  Kirk 
hud  sent  me,  entitled,  "No  Sect  in  Heaven,"  which 
led  to  quite  a  theological  conversation.  In  the  even 
ing  Mr.  Gallagher  called,  bringing  with  him  a  friend 
from  Kentucky,  whom  I  endeavored  to  edify  for 
a  while.  Mr.  Davis  of  Rhode  Island  also  spent  the 
evening  here  (he  also  was  not  my  company,  but  Mrs. 
Bailey's),  and  before  long  Mr.  Goodloe  came  so  that  I 
had  both  him  and  Mr.  Gallagher  on  my  hands,  but  I 
took  it  easy,  in  a  big  chair,  one  on  one  side  and  the 
other  on  the  other,  both  Unitarians,  and  we  fell  to. 
Fortunately  no  two  Unitarians  were  ever  known  to 
agree  exactly,  so  whenever  I  found  myself  "cornered  " 
I  just  set  them  to  fighting  each  other  and  under  cover 
drew  off  to  repair  damages.  I  don't  as  a  general 
thing  like  to  pay  visits  or  have  company  on  Sunday. 
I  don't  think  it  is  a  profitable  way  to  spend  the  day, 
but  the  only  way  to  be  rid  of  it  here  is  to  stay  upstairs 
and  refuse  to  see  any  one,  which  I  used  to  do  when  I 
was  here  before,  but  as  I  am  here  now  for  so 
short  a  time,  I  though  it  might  seem  a  little  ungracious, 
so  I  just  make  the  best  of  it.  Monday  we  went  to  the 
Colonization  Building  at  10  o'clock  to  see  the  proces 
sion.  It  came  a  little  after  twelve,  Buchanan  and 
Lincoln  in  the  same  carriage,  side  by  side.  After 
wards  Mr.  Chandler  Young,  a  secessionist  just  come 
from  Florida  to  resign  his  District- Attorneyship,  and 
who  was  present  at  the  inauguration  of  Jefferson 
Davis  at  Montgomery,  took  Jane  Cox  and  me  in  a  hack 
up  to  the  Capitol,  where  we  took  position,  saw  the 
oath  administered,  stayed  through  a  part  of  the  ad 
dress,  and  then  went  back  to  see  the  procession  on  its 


314     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

return.  In  the  evening  I  went  to  the  ball  with  the 
Pikes.  Mr.  Lovejoy  came  down  to  see  mo  and  took 
me  to  the  ball-room,  but  did  not  go  in  himself.  I 
wore  an  apple-green  silk,  a  Paris  dress,  flounced  to  the 
waist,  or  rather  ruffled,  each  ruffle  having  a  kind  of 
pattern  edge  and  floss  fringe,  the  waist  pointed  be 
hind  and  before,  with  a  bertha  to  match  the  skirt,  white 
puffs  of  tulle  in  the  bosom  and  a  tulle  chemisette,  a 
narrow  black  velvet  round  my  neck,  my  coral  bracelet 
on  one  arm  and  a  gold  one  on  the  other,  etc.,  etc.  It 
was  so  late  before  Mr.  Lincoln  came  that  they  began 
to  dance  before  he  got  there.  When  he  came,  the 
band  struck  up  "Hail  to  the  Chief  who  in  Triumph 
advances."  Everybody  formed  on  each  side  of  the 
room,  leaving  a  passage  between,  Mr.  Lincoln  being 
conducted  through  it,  bowing  right  and  left,  to  a 
raised  platform  at  the  end  of  the  room.  Mrs.  Lin 
coln  followed,  led  by  Mr.  Douglas.  Then  the  crowd 
filed  up  and  were  introduced.  Before  this  was  half 
through  we  went  out  to  supper,  and  when  they  came 
back,  my  attendant,  who  at  that  time  was  Mr.  Bingham, 
took  me  up.  I  said,  "  Mr.  Lincoln,  I  am  very  sorry 
for  you,  but  indeed  I  must  shake  hands."  He  then 
gave  me  another  shake,  and  with  a  very  paternal  and 
benevolent  and  gentle  squeeze  said,  "Ah!  your  hand 
doesn't  hurt  me,"  and  then  the  crowd  came  up  and  I 
passed  on.  Sometimes  I  promenaded,  sometimes  I 
talked,  and  sometimes  I  only  sat  still  and  looked  on, 
which  was  to  me  the  best  part  of  it,  the  dresses  and 
dancing  were  so  beautiful.  Lord  Lyons  was  there  and 
Chevalier  and  Halsewam.  Mrs.  Lincoln  danced  with 
Mr.  Douglas,  who  held  her  bonnet.  Mr.  Hamlin  and 
a  lady  whom  I  did  not  know,  were  their  vis-d,-vis. 
I  think  she  only  danced  once.  "The  Prince  "  was 


BUSY   YEARS    IN   HAMILTON  315 

there  also,  a  very  nice-looking  and  well-behaved 
young  gentleman.  Mrs.  Lincoln  was  elegantly  dressed 
in  a  blue  silk  with  a  train,  a  point-lace  cape,  and  \vhite 
and  blue  head-dress.  I  wore  my  hair  curled  in  front, 
with  a  wreath  of  green  leaves  and  gold  grapes  —  there, 
I  won't  say  another  word  about  the  ball. 

MERIDEN,  CONN.,  March  20,  1861. 
MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  suppose  you  will  be  glad  to 
learn  that  I  am  thus  far  on  my  way  rejoicing. 
Wednesday  I  made  several  calls  and  went  to  the 
White  House  to  see  Mrs.  Lincoln,  but  she  did  not 
receive  that  day.  Katy  Chase  and  Nettie,  daughters 
of  Gov.  Chase,  spent  the  day  at  our  house.  The 
former  is  about  twenty-one,  tall,  slender,  beautiful 
eves,  hair,  eyelashes,  and  feet,  very  graceful,  great 
repose  of  manner.  Friday  I  went  again  to  the 
President's  with  similar  success.  Mrs.  Lincoln's 
children  were  sick  and  she  did  not  receive.  Monday 
I  went  to  Philadelphia.  All  the  Pikes  and  Fred  Bailey 
went  to  the  station  with  me.  Mr.  Lippincott  and 
Annie  Grace  met  me  on  my  arrival.  We  sat  up  and 
talked  till  one  o'clock,  got  up  the  next  morning  at 
six,  and  came  off  in  a  driving  snow-storm ;  reached 
Meriden  about  seven  in  the  evening.  Mr.  Wood  has 
an  office  with  Mr.  Chase  at  a  salary  of  &2,000  a  year, 
so  I  left  him  comfortable.  Don't  you  be  worried 
about  Fort  Sumter.  It  will  all  come  out  right  in  the 
end.  I'll  give  you  my  views  when  I  see  you. 
Mother,  when  do  you  want  me  to  come  home?  In 
a  hurry  ?  Mr.  Dexter  wants  me  to  be  present  at  the 
dedication  of  his  church,  which  will  be  on  the  4th  of 
April,  and  I  shall  make  my  arrangements  to  be  in 
Boston  :it  that  time. 


316     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

APRIL  17,   1861. 

My  time  has  been  constantly  taken  up  since  my 
return.  I  have  written  very  few  letters,  and  have 
seen  a  good  many  people.  I  stopped  in  Philadelphia 
one  night.  I  did  not  stop  in  New  York,  but  came  on 
directly  to  West  Meriden,  where  I  remained  ten  days 
recruiting  and  luxuriating,  lying  in  bed  mornings,  and 
getting  up  to  delicious  little  breakfasts  arranged  for 
the  occasion,  went  on  one  or  two  excursions,  made  a 
few  visits  and  received  a  few  back  again,  had  one 
little  party  made  for  me,  then  went  on  to  Hartford 
and  stopped  a  few  days.  From  Hartford  to  Boston 
and  Cambridge,  where  I  remained  a  few  days.  I 
met  Mr.  Spalding  in  the  cars  the  other  day.  He 
proposed  an  excursion  into  the  country  when  the 
mayflowers  come,  but  ah,  me  !  when  will  the  may- 
flowers  come?  A  blocking  snowstorm  fastened  me 
up  in  Meriden,  a  blocking  snowstorm  followed  me  up 
in  Cambridge,  and  the  day  is  dark  and  dreary.  We 
have  had  possibly  no  warm  weather  since  my  return. 
The  pleasant  days  have  been  "clear,  but  oh!  how 
cold."  Still  the  grass  begins  to  look  green  on  southern 
hillsides,  and  the  crocuses  and  hyacinths  are  not 
afraid.  How  do  you  feel  about  the  wars  and  rumors 
of  wars  ?  If  Washington  gets  too  warm  for  comfort 
shall  you  not  begin  to  think  of  turning  your  face 
northward?  Every  one  is  of  course  full  of  the  matter 
here.  There  is  great  enthusiasm.  You  will  have 
our  Beverly  Companies  in  a  day  or  two,  I  suppose. 
It  must  be  rather  stirring  there.  What  do  they  say 
about  Anderson?  And  how  does  Mrs.  Lincoln  wear? 
and  what  of  Seward,  and  Chase,  etc.?  I  suppose 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  317 

the  mails  to  Washington  will  not  bo  cut  off,  even  if 
hostilities  do  commence  in  that  vicinity.  To  prevent 
any  trouble,  however,  I  think  you  had  better  write  to 
me  pretty  soon  and  make  sure. 

MAY  14,  1861. 

Went  into  Boston  to  see  pictures  —  the  "  Home  of 
the  Bees  "  —  with  some  nasturtium  leaves  looking  out 
from  the  canvas  and  a  butterfly  alight  on  one  of  them, 
and  some  beautiful  mignonette,  but  otherwise  not  re 
markable —  also  the  "Picnic  of  the  Bears" — rep 
resenting  them  in  human  attitudes  and  with  human 
sentiments,  grotesque  and  fanciful  in  conception,  but 
not  so  fully  carried  out  as  I  conceive  possible.  Also 
the  gallery  of  the  Allston  Club  —  said  to  be  the  finest 
collection  of  pictures  ever  in  this  country.  Rosa 
Bonheur  has  one  or  two  horses  there.  I  also  looked 
in  at  the  Park  Street  prayer-meeting.  The  vestry 
was  cold  and  dingy,  not  to  say  dirty — the  meeting 
decorous,  but  not  so  interesting  as  I  should  think  it 
would  be  in  a  time  of  religious  excitement.  At  five 
o'clock  I  went  to  Concord  and  stayed  till  next  night. 
Una  is  in  Dio  Lewis'  school  at  Lexington.  Julian  at 
Cambridge.  Rose  at  home.  Friday  evening  we  stayed 
at  home  and  looked  at  the  Dore  Bible.  Saturday  at 
12  M.  we  went  to  Emerson's  lecture,  which  I  should 
have  enjoyed  if  I  had  not  been  so  very  sleepy.  The 
air  was  excessively  bad  —  though  the  lecturer  was 
Emerson  ! 

JUNE  12. 

Mrs.  Faulkner  made  a  call  here  this  morning. 
She  has  been  in  town  a  day  or  two,  and  went  from 
our  house  to  the  station  on  her  way  to  Cambridge. 
She  will  be  eighty  years  old  next  fall,  and  she  goes  to 


318     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Nowburyport,  and  Salem,  and  all  about,  alone.  Her 
father  was  a  Frenchman,  her  grandfather  a  resident 
of  St.  Domingo.  It  was  the  custom  then  for  those 
who  were  able,  to  go  to  France  at  the  birth  of  their 
children,  on  account  of  the  superior  attention  to  be  se 
cured,  —  the  negroes  being  the  only  attendants  to  be 
had  in  St.  Domingo.  Her  father  was  accordingly 
born  in  the  city  of  Nantes,  in  France.  He  returned 
to  St.  Domingo,  afterwards  fell  in  love  with  a  girl  in 
Hampton,  Virginia,  married  her,  and  there  Mrs. 
Faulkner  was  born.  Her  father  was  a  Catholic,  her 
mother  a  Protestant.  Her  father  desired  her  to  be 
christened  by  a  Catholic  priest.  There  was  none 
nearer  than  Baltimore,  whither  they  accordingly  went, 
and  she  was  christened  Marie  Louise  (Blanchard),  a 
friend  of  her  father's,  Toutant  Beauregard,  standing 
god-father.  The  traitor,  General  Beauregard,  bears 
the  same  name  and  she  supposes  him  to  be  the  grand 
son  of  her  god-father.  He  was  very  fond  of  her,  gave 
her  many  presents,  and  when  he  dined  out  used  to 
send  his  servant  to  fetch  her  at  dessert.  At  the  age 
of  three  or  four  years  she  went  with  her  family  to  St. 
Domingo,  where  they  remained  till  the  breaking  out  of 
the  civil  war  there,  and  the  ensuing  negro  insurrec 
tion.  She  was  there  during  the  bombardment,  rush 
ing  with  the  rest  of  the  women  and  children  to  the 
part  of  the  city  farthest  from  the  shore.  One  cannon 
ball  came  rolling  along  so  near  her  mother  that  the 
wind  of  it  blew  her  dress.  For  fifteen  mouths  they 
did  not  undress  at  night.  The  women  and  children 
went  on  board  the  American  ships  in  the  harbor  every 
night,  and  came  back  to  their  houses  in  the  morning. 
The  unburied  bodies  of  men  lay  about  in  the  streets, 
and  she  once  saved  her  father's  life  by  clinging  about 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  319 

his  neck  and  preventing  the  blow  of  the  assassin. 
After  a  while  the  negroes  drove  the  whites  from  the 
island.  She  saw  Toussaint  L'Ouverture — was  on 
board  a  vessel  when  the  British  boarded  it  and  im 
pressed  one  of  their  seamen  who  was  an  Irishman  — 
but  at  her  entreaties  he  was  allowed  to  remnin.  She 
married  in  Virginia  a  Capt.  Lord  who  originated  in 
Ipswicli ;  went  with  him  to  the  Mediterranean.  He 
died  of  yellow  fever  in  New  Orleans,  leaving  her  a 
widow  at  the  age  of  twenty-two.  After  eight  years 
she  married  Dr.  Faulkner  and  came  to  Hamilton  to 
live.  All  this  she  told  us  this  morning  and  I  write 
it  to  you  because  I  think  it  interesting.  One 
thing  more — while  journeying  up  the  Mississippi 
with  her  first  husband,  the  boat  was  tied  to  a  tree  and 
they  took  a  stroll  around  as  you  did.  They  entered 
a  cottage  and  asked  for  some  water.  It  being  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Beauregard  family  she  asked  the  woman 
if  she  had  ever  heard  of  a  Toutaut  Beau  regard. 
The  woman  smiled  and  said  he  was  her  husband.  He 
had  left  her  a  widow  and  poor.  She  called  in  her  son 
from  the  field  and  introduced  Mrs.  Faulkner  as  his 
sister.  That,  I  believe,  is  the  last  she  has  heard  of 
them  till  this  Beauregard  turned  up.  She  instituted 
the  first  Sunday  School  in  Hamilton  and  superin 
tended  it  herself  for  a  long  while. 

I  receive  frequent  letters  from  Mr.  Wood.  Marcel 
Bailey  is  in  the  army ;  was  in  the  advance-guard 
when  the  march  was  made  to  Alexandria.  Fred  is 
gone  to  West  Point.  Things  seem  to  be  growing 
finely.  Corn,  beans,  potatoes,  squashes,  beets,  cucum 
bers,  rose  bushes,  sweet  peas,  morning  glories,  dahlias, 
gladioluses (?),  asters,  mallows,  pansies,  nasturtiums, 
and  other  things  up  and  doing.  Grass  promises  well. 


320     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

Mr.  Pike,  of  Rowley,  preached  on  Sunday,  prayed  for 
Gen.  Scott  and  the  country  in  a  way  to  do  your  heart 
good,  whether  it  did  them  any  or  not. 

HAMILTON,  July  25. 

After  the  cars  left  the  B.  &  W.  depot,  I  left  also 
and  strolled  slowly  to  the  C  —  office,  carefully  check 
ing  a  strong  itching  to  strangle  the  little  newsboys  who 
added  to  "  Times,  Transcript,  Journal,"  "  the  Fed 
eral  army  defeated  —  retreat  on  Washington,"  as 
nonchalantly  as  if  it  had  been  nothing  more  than  a 
corn-doctor's  advertisement. 

[To  A  CHILD.] 

HAMILTON,  MASS.,  August  20,  1861. 
MY  DEAR  LITTLE  MARY  :  I  found  a  pair  of  gloves 
yesterday  on  the  table.  They  are  just  about  large 
enough  for  a  honey-bee,  and  just  about  the  color  of  a 
hare-bell.  Whose  do  you  suppose  they  are?  I  have 
concluded  to  send  them  to  you,  and  if  you  don't  know 
any  little  girl  who  owns  them,  I  think  you  may  as  well 
take  them  yourself. 

Since  I  began  this  I  have  had  an  invitation  to  go  to 
drive  —  so  I  cannot  write  you  a  whole  letter  as  I  in 
tended,  but  I  hope  you  will  remember  me  and  love  me 
a  little  bit,  and  I  will  you !  Good-by. 

Very  affectionately  yours, 

MARY  ARBY  DODGE. 

P.S.  —  I  think  we  must  have  a  postscript,  so  please 
give  my  love  to  your  papa  and  mamma  and  that  little 
Anna,  who  says,  "  Oh  !  " 

OCTOBER  18. 

I  went  to  Boston — visited  'round,  heard  Gough 
lecture  —  did  a  little  shopping,  returned  as  far  as 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON      321 

Salem  —  met  mother  there  and  came  home  at  night  — 
found  among  other  letters,  one  from  Rev.  Wm.  M. 
Thayer,  the  "  Phocion  "  of  the  "  Congregationalist," 
editor  of  the  "Home  Monthly,"  etc.,  wanting  me  to 
write  a  series  of  articles  for  young  men  in  his  monthly, 
or  anything  else  I  chose.  I  declined,  assuring  him 
that  I  had  nothing  whatever  to  say  to  young  men. 

Mr.  A.  TV.  D.  showed  my  "Ode  "  to  Mr.C.  Gushing, 
who  professed  to  admire  it,  and  being  asked  to  criti 
cise  it,  pointed  to  the  first  line  and  asked  if  the  reap 
ers  were  done  brown?  I  thought  usage  justified  that 
construction,  and  tried  to  hunt  up  authorities,  but 
with  small  success  —  so  it  came  into  my  mind  to  ask 
Charles  Sumner  !  So  I  wrote  a  letter  to  Charley,  and 
asked  him  —  telling  him  at  the  same  time  what  I 
thought  of  him  personally,  and  enclosing  the  opening 
paragraph  of  my  article  on  "  Forgiveness,"  pub 
lished  last  fall.  Charley  sent  back  to  me  his  Worces 
ter  speech,  writing  "Thanks"  on  the  envelope,  and 
the  next  day  sent  a  letter  saying  that  he  thought  my 
verses  excellent,  including  the  first  line,  that  I  must 
write  more,  etc.  He  has  also  sent  me  two  or  three 
other  of  his  speeches.  Now,  Mr.  Wood,  don't  you 
go  and  tell  him  that  I  told  you.  Monday  night, 
October  7,  Mr.  Dodge  brought  home  a  bundle  of  yarn, 
and  I  took  enough  for  four  pairs  of  socks.  I  had 
previously  engaged  Mrs.  P.,  Mrs.  N.  TV.,  Sr.,  and 
mother  to  knit  a  pair  apiece  if  I  would  provide 
the  yarn.  Mr.  D.  has  taken  up  the  business  ex 
tensively,  and  has,  I  should  think,  as  many  as  fifty 
women  knitting.  We  have  finished  one  pair  —  mother 
and  I.  I  knit  the  first  one,  and  it  is  big  enough  for 
the  foot  of  a  mountain.  Mother  says  it  will  do  for 
somebody  whose  foot  is  bandaged.  Mrs.  T.  P's 


322    GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

will  walk  alone,  Mrs.  P.  says,  they  are  so  stiff. 
Her  yarn  is  coarse  and  her  needles  fine,  so  you  will 
probably  hear  famous  exploits  wrought  by  a  pair  of 
socks. 

Our  Conference  came  on  Wednesday,  October  8. 
The  people  brought  provisions  and  set  the  tables  at  the 
Parsonage  House,  now  empty,  and  had  enough  to 
feed  a  regiment,  and  the  regiment  fed  accordingly. 
We  were  the  only  people  in  town,  I  suspect,  who  "  en 
tertained  "  at  home,  and  we  had  a  tableful,  partly 
because  they  wanted  to  come,  and  partly  because 
father  invited  some,  and  partly  because  there  was 
such  a  crowd  at  the  Parsonage  that  I  felt  bound  to 
invite  people  here.  As  J.  and  I  were  walking  home 
together  a  gentleman  overtook  us  and  accosted  me. 
I  had  never  seen  him  before,  but  J.  introduced  him 
as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Thatcher,  of  Gloucester,  and  by 
some  hocus  pocus  he  was  at  our  house  to  dinner  with 
his  party  of  three,  a  Mr.  Trask  whom  father  used  to 
know,  etc.  Mary  met  her  minister,  Mr.  Barbour,  in 
the  aisle  and  wanted  to  bring  me  up  for  an  introduc 
tion,  but  I  kept  behind.  After  services  in  the  after 
noon,  however,  Mr.  D.  came  trotting  round  from 
the  other  aisle  with  him ;  said  Mr.  Barbour  was  so 
anxious  to  see  me  that  he  was  just  going  down  to  the 
house  to  call,  but  chanced  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  me 
—  so  there  was  no  escape.  After  that  was  over,  Rev. 
Mr.  Bremner,  a  Scotch  minister  from  Rockport,  came 
to  J.  and  wanted  an  introduction,  so  she  shoved  us  to 
gether,  and  then  a  semi-circle  of  Trasks  and  Briggs, 
and  a  general  mob  collected  and  I  was  glad  to  get  out 
and  go  home.  Now  you  see  ivhat  fame  is.  We  had 
ten  to  dinner  and  thirteen  to  supper.  I  lost  my  white 
pin  in  the  forenoon  and  Mr.  Thatcher  advertised  it, 


BUSY  YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  323 

and  Mary  found  it  on  the  sidewalk  coming  home  at 
night.  Thursday  afternoon  I  canvassed  the  Backside 
for  blankets,  quilts,  socks,  etc.  Every  lady  gave  en 
couragement,  but  few  gave  blankets.  Aunt  Susan 
heroically  gave  up  one  of  her  ancestral  wrought 
quilts.  They  said,  however,  that  they  would  look  over 
their  goods  and  see  what  they  had  and  bring  them  to 
me  — so  as  Petrarch  said  to  Laura,  "  I  live  in  hope." 
If  it  clears  this  P.M.  I  shall  start  again.  I  intend 
to  scour  the  whole  village,  and  if  the  rascals  don't 
divulge  I  will  expose  them.  Friday  evening  there 
was  a  ''grand  War  Rally  "at  the  vestry.  Rev. 
Spalding  of  Salem  was  announced,  but  did  not  come. 
Eben  Kimball  and  W.  D.  Northend  did.  Mrs.— 
characterizes  the  former  as  a  "  bustin'  feller,"  by 
which  she  means  a  modern  Demosthenes,  though  she 
does  not  know  it.  I  explain  this  for  your  benefit, 
Mr.  Wood.  My  sister  has  lived  in  Hamilton,  knows 

the    people,  as  Mrs. expresses  it,   "  from  egg  to 

shell,"  and  understands  the  vernacular. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  Mrs.  —  -  called  on  us  Confer 
ence  evening.  Two  fellows,  the  old  one  that  stopped 
all  night  in  the  snow-storm  at  the  Mordough  Coun 
cil,  and  another  one,  stayed  so  long  that  I  did  not 
know  but  that  they  were  going  to  spend  the  night  here, 
and  after  having  been  in  an  exhausting  receiver  all 
day  I  was  not  specially  pleased  to  have  Mrs.  E.  P. 
come  in  before  supper  was  fairly  off  the  boards  and 
stay  till  nine  o'clock,  but  she  did,  and  1  read  the  news 
paper  and  snubbed  her  and  snapped  her  and  laughed 
at  her,  and  she,  sweet  innocence,  did  not  know  a 
thing  about  it  and  went  away  as  amiable  as  you 
please.  Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  etc. 

The  result  of  the  lecture  was  that  ten  enlisted  from 


324     CJATL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

Hamilton.  That  is  the  story  that  I  heard  the  next  clay. 
Subsequent  modifications  have  reduced  the  number 
to  one,  and  perhaps  two,  but  I  tell  the  tale  as  'twas 
told  to  me.  That  one  is  Eddy  Whittredge  and  per 
haps  David  Wallace.  I  have  heard  a  Saunders 
mentioned,  but  I  don't  vouch  for  him.  David  Trask 
has  gone. 

Ordination  came  on  Tuesday  —  a  day  that  eclipsed 
the  Conference.  Fortunately  the  North  Association 
had  a  centennial  in  Rowley  that  day,  and  that  di 
verted  the  current  from  us  —  otherwise  we  should 
have  been  inundated.  The  day  was  a  gem  set  flaw 
less  in  the  gusty  October.  Rev.  Mr.  Felt  came  to 
our  house  in  the  morning  ;  came  in  the  first  train. 
I  like  him  much.  He  is  a  man  of  dignity  and  educa 
tion.  He  is  going  to  send  me  his  Memorial  of  his 
wife  and  his  Ecclesiastical  History  which  he  is  now 
writing  (of  New  P^ngland).  The  morning  exercises 
were  in  the  vestry  and  were  interesting  and  frivolous 
—  me  judice  —  Mr.  Fitz,  Mr.  Sewell,  Southgate, 
Middleton,  Johnson,  Choate,  etc.,  were  there.  Dr. 
Blagden,  of  the  Old  South,  presided.  He  seems  to  be 
an  easy,  solid,  good-natured,  happy,  affectionate 
sort  of  man.  I  think  I  should  like  him.  At  noon 
Mr.  D.  took  the  bishops  and  the  other  clergy,  dele 
gates,  etc.,  over  to  the  Ponds  to  dinner.  They  were 
extremely  pleased.  Dr.  B.  thinks  he  has  found  the 
Garden  of  Eden  at  last,  and  says  Mrs.  B.  must  come 
there  and  board  next  summer.  Mr.  D.  took  occasion 
to  read  my  "  Ode"  to  the  company  and  gave  Dr.  B. 
his  last  remaining  copy  of  it.  I  expect  it  will  die  out 
now.  Prof.  Park  came  with  Prof.  Phelps  at  noon 
and  were  as  attractive  as  a  menagerie.  They  were 
to  have  gone  to  Mrs.  D's  to  dinner,  but  mistook  the 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  325 

house  and  got  to  Mr.  S's  —  did  not  discover  the 
mistake  till  they  were  seated  at  the  table.  Prof. 
Park  disconcerted  poor  little  Mrs.  S.  a  good  deal  by 
scanning  all  the  people  at  the  table  and  gazing 
around.  She  could  not  divine  what  the  trouble  was 
or  what  he  wanted  till  he  satisfied  their  curiosity  by 
asking  slowly,  "Is  —  Gail  —  Hamilton  —  here  ?  " 
Gail  Hamilton  owes  the  continued  possession  of  her 
faculties  to  the  fact  that  she  was  not  there.  I  never 
saw  so  many  carriages  in  Hamilton,  nor  so  many 
people  in  the  meeting  house,  nor  so  much  talent  in 
the  pulpit,  as  there  was  that  day.  Prof.  Park 
preached  the  sermon  and  it  was  splendid.  His  face 
is  a  sermon  —  a  volume  —  a  library  —  a  college  and 
professors.  So  strong  and  so  full  of  genius.  Dr. 
Blagdeu  gave  the  charge  to  the  pastor  —  excellent. 
Mr.  Southgate  charge  to  the  people  in  his  best  style 
and  royal  good  sense.  Mr.  S.  was  not  averse  lo 
charging  a  people  that  Prof.  Park  preached  to  and 
Prof.  Phelps  was  brother-in-law  to.  Brother  Amos 
gave  right  hand  of  fellowship  and  brother-in-law 
Means  made  the  ordaining  prayer.  Never  ordination 
was  so  happily  executed.  Nothing  was  spun  out  — 
nothing  flat,  and  everything  went  off  nicely.  Mr.  D. 

came  down  in  the  evening,  bringing  Rev. ,  of , 

to  the  Mecca  of  the  place  !  and  W.  C.  gave  the 
Mohammed  a  book  that  he  had  written, which  Moham 
med  received  graciously,  but  hang  me  if  she  ever 
means  to  read.  Now  you  see,  Mr.  Wood  and  the  rest, 
we  have  been  about  as  busy  the  last  few  weeks  as 
anybody  in  the  country,  and  we  have  hauled  up  on 
the  dry  dock  to  repair  damages. 

Yesterday  P.M.  Mr.  Johnson  went  up  on  the  hill 
and  came  in  on  his  return,  stopped  to  tea  and  awhile 


326     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

in  the  evening.  It  is  a  luxury  to  look  at  him  and 
think  he  is  not  Mr.  Mordough.  The  Mary  Forrest 
(Mrs.  Freeman),  author  of  k' Women  of  the  South," 
etc.,  Mr.  Derby's  friend,  and  to  whom  I  sent  the  fern, 
is  his  cousin.  He  had  read  some  of  my  letters  there 
before  he  ever  thought  of  coming  to  Hamilton.  lie 
says  people  say  to  him,  "Now  you  came  from  Hamil 
ton.  Tell  us  about  Gail  Hamilton.  Is  she  a  man  or 
a  tvoman?"  After  he  was  gone,  mother  and  I  went 
to  Mrs.  Patch's  and  spent  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

If  you  don't  any  of  you  hear  from  me  again  very 
soon  you  must  reflect  that  I  am  knitting  and  begging 
for  the  country  as  hard  as  I  can. 

Truly  yours  all  around, 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

OCTOBER  26. 

MY  DEAR  L.  K.  L.'s  :  I  send  you  the  story.  I 
don't  know  about  its  being  good,  though.  If  it  turns 
out  to  be,  it  will  be  a  proof  that  extraordinary  times 
produce  extraordinary  men  —  for  I  have  been  over 
whelmed,  submerged,  annihilated  with  fairs,  sewing- 
societies,  conferences,  ordinations  —  in  fact,  Hamilton 
has  gone  mad  with  dissipation,  and  before  tilings  had 
fairly  settled  down,  I  "  up  "  and  made  a  box  for  the 
soldiers,  which  wasn't  a  box  at  all,  but  a  China  cask 
and  a  barrel.  I  had  to  do  the  thing  myself  —  went 
to  almost  every  house  in  the  village  —  and  if  I  fall 
insane,  I  know  what  I  shall  run  on,  "  quilts,  blankets, 
under-shirts, "etc.,  but  don't  send  me  to  the  hospital. 
T  shall  be  quite  harmless. 

The  nest-egg  of  the  story  I  wrote  a  year  ago,  but 
the  chicken  full  fledged  never  came  out  till  to-day. 
Let  me  know  when  Grace  comes  this  way.  I  want  to 


BUSY  YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  327 

get  a  peep  at  her  at  least.  If  I  can  kidnap  her  a  little 
while,  I  think  I  shall  do  it.  Long  enough  to  give  her 
a  drive  in  Hamilton  and  let  her  see  the  world. 

Truly  yours  affectionately. 
Good  time  coming  —  wait  a  little  longer, 

M.  A.  D. 

HAMILTON,  MASS.,  November  26,  1861. 

MY  DKAU  MR.  WOOD  :  Thanksgiving  is  over. 
Motley  legs  and  wings,  the  d6bris  of  many  a  vanished 
fowl,  the  last  of  the  Mohicans,  furnished,  but  can 
hardly  be  said  to  have  adorned,  our  table  to-day. 
The  day  of  plum  puddings  and  pumpkin  pies  —  called 
pumpkin  out  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  our  fathers, 
but  refined  by  the  moro  fastidious  taste  of  their  chil 
dren  into  squash  (refined  gastronomically,  not  philo- 
logically),  is  past.  Now  if  you  can  parse  the  above 
sentence  I  will  give  you  a  certificate  of  fitness,  and  a 
recommendation  to  any  district  of  which  you  may 
wish  to  take  charge  this  winter.  Two  of  our  families 
were  present  on  Thanksgiving.  A  third  was  expected, 
but  was  prevented  by  the  advent  of  a  young  volun 
teer  who  very  unexpectedly  (to  his  aunt)  joined  the 
Mass.  Light  Infantry  a  few  days  before  Thanksgiv 
ing,  for  all  which  the  Lord  make  us  truly  thankful. 

Here  we  are  on  the  very  brink  of  winter,  snow 
lying  white  on  the  ground,  snow  scurrying  down  in 
white  whirlpools  from  the  gray  and  angry  sky.  I 
have  received  two  letters  from  you  since  I  last  wrote. 
The  first  part  of  the  penultimate,  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  is  what  our  friend  Artemas  Ward  would  call 
"  rit  sarcasticall,"  but  I  should  just  like  to  have  you 
lay  your  hand  on  the  Bible  and  affirm,  if  you  dare, 


328     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTER^ 

that  you  arc  not  in  the  habit  of  rounding  off  your 
stories  from  the  abundant  stores  of  your  own  imagin 
ation  !  Did  I  not  have  to  watch  you  with  lynx-eyes 
(what  kind  of  eyes  those  are  I  don't  know,  but  I've 
heard  of  'em)  to  see  just  where  the  facts  gave  w;iy, 
and  the  romance  set  in?  Don't  you  remember  the 
touching  and  exquisite  story  of  the  early  love  of  our 
old  Public  Functionary,  and  how,  being  closely  ques 
tioned  thereon  and  pushed  into  a  corner,  you  were 
forced  to  confess  that  upon  a  frail  foundation  of  fact 
you  had  fashioned  a  fair  fabric  of  fancy?  Did  you 
not  once  upon  a  time  sit  down  and  roll  off  with  fluent 
tongue  a  breakfast  scene  in  Windsor  Palace,  just  as 
if  you  were  one  of  the  party?  Don't  you  remorse 
lessly  retail  conversations  between  Lord  Palmerston 
and  his  valet?  and  now  you  set  up  to  be  sensitive  on 
the  point  of  Munchausenism !  Very  well,  if  you 
were  not  vulnerable,  the  arrow  would  not  cause  such  a 
commotion  ! 

I  met  in  the  train  the  other  day  Richard  Spofford. 
Richard  Spofford  is  engaged  to  Harriet  Prescott. 
Harriet  Prescott  is  the  author  of  "  Sir  Rohan's 
Ghost."  Richard  Spofford  is  a  Douglas  Demo 
crat,  a  friend  of  Commodore  Dupont,  commander 
of  our  Naval  Expedition,  of  whom  he  spoke  in 
the  highest  terms.  He  tells  me  that  Dupont, 
Pendergrast,  and  Barren,  the  rebel  of  Hatteras, 
were  peculiarly  tender  and  intimate  friends,  that 
Barron  is  P's  wife's  brother,  and  that  she  and  all 
her  friends  are  in  Norfolk  and  vicinity.  So  this  civil 
war  cuts  into  families. 

Did  you  ever  meet  Rev.  Mr.  Pike,  of  Rowley?  He 
is  a  man  of  parts,  one  of  the  most  welcome  of  our 
"  exchanges,"  a  man,  I  think,  of  fine  literary  taste  and 


BUSY  YEARS  IN   HAMLITON  329 

ability,  and  slightly  peculiar,  withal.  My  acquaint 
ance  among  the  clergy  is  extending !  Did  I  tell  you 
of  one  who  called  on  me  one  evening  and  presented 
me  with  a  book  he  had  just  published  ?  Since  his  re 
turn  home  he  has  deluged  me  with  letters,  tracts, 
almanacs,  books,  papers,  and  finally  tells  me  that  his 
wife,  incited  by  his  telling  her  that  he  found  me  knit 
ting  socks  for  the  soldiers,  has  engaged  herself  and 
the  parish  in  like  good  work.  Unconscious  influence  ! 
I  have  been  to  court !  A  young  lawyer  and  his 
wife,  resident  here,  called  for  me  to  accompany  them 
to  Salem  to  hear  a  case  "  just  for  the  fun  of  it,"  Mrs. 
Lawyer  never  having  been  in  a  court-room.  So  I  did, 
and  we  were  so  much  interested  that  we  went  three 
days  in  succession  and  heard  it  through,  nor  departed 
till  the  jury  did.  Mr.  Phillips,  late  District-Attorney, 
or  Attorney-General,  perhaps  both,  was  the  Senior 
Counsel  on  the  losing  side  and  argued  the  case  with 
much  ingenuity  and  apparent  candor.  He  adopts  the 
English  style  of  speaking,  has  a  soft,  sweet,  pleasant 
voice,  is  gentle  and  gentlemanly,  courteous  to  his 
opponents,  remarkably  fluent,  uses  choice  and  elegant 
language,  is  never  violent  either  in  tone  or  gesture, 
but  calm  and  conversational.  The  opposing  lawyer 
was  Mr.  Abbott,  the  gentleman  who  delivered  the 
Agricultural  Address  to  which  my  "Ode"  was  intro 
ductory.  He  was  more  able  but  less  pleasing  than 
Phillips.  I  have  since  borrowed  a  law-book,  and  the 
next  thing  you  may  expect  to  hear  of  me  will  be  that 
I  am  arguing  before  the  Supreme  Court.  I  have 
already  been  admitted  to  the  Bar !  But  I  suppose  it 
would  please  you  to  have  me  passively,  rather  than 
actively,  engaged  in  courting. 


330     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

DECEMBER  27,  1861. 

When  I  was  in  school  I  had  few  intimacies  —  for 
the  first  two  years  none.  The  third  summer  I  was 
attracted  to  a  girl  whose  name  was  Ellen  Chapman 
Hobbs.  Her  father  was  a  lawyer  in  Waken1  eld,  N.H. 
She  was  a  remarkable  girl  —  highly  intellectual  and 
intense  —  not  handsome,  but  with  a  face  that  lighted 
up  wonderfully,  and  with  a  slender,  airy  figure.  It 
shows  how  blue-stockingy  we  both  were,  that  we  fell 
in  love  in  the  Logic  class,  charmed  by  each  other's 
recitations.  This  friendship  founded  on  mutual  re 
spect  outlasted  our  school-days,  unlike  the  '-general 
run  "  of  school-girl  friendships  both  in  its  basis  and 
its  duration.  After  leaving  school,  she  taught  awhile, 
and  then  was  married  to  Mr.  Edward  Ashtou  Rollin, 
of  Great  Falls,  N.H.  She  has  had  three  children, 
the  eldest  a  precocious  boy  who,  of  course,  died  of  a 
brain  disease  at  the  age  of  ten  months,  and  two 
daughters.  She  has  sent  me  several  urgent  invitations 
to  visit  her,  which,  for  various  reasons,  I  had  been  un 
able  to  accept.  But  about  Thanksgiving  she  renewed 
them,  offering  as  an  inducement  that,  for  the  first  time 
almost  since  her  marriage,  she  was  well.  So  I  put 
myself  into  a  little  travelling  basket,  tucked  a  new 
feather  on  my  bonnet  and  a  new  collar  on  my  cloak, 
and  started.  I  had  not  seen  her  since  we  were  at 
school  together  and  I  was  somewhat  anxious  lest  our 
expectations,  founded  on  youthful  memories,  might 
not  be  met.  I  am  happy  to  say  that  her  womanhood 
has  fulfilled  the  promise  of  her  girlhood,  and  we  en 
joyed  to  the  full  our  five  days'  visit.  She  is  pleas 
antly  situated,  has  a  noble  husband,  who  is,  moreover, 
a  '•  rising  man."  He  was  Speaker  of  the  House  last 
year,  though  he  is  only  thirty- three  now  They  have 


BUSY  YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  331 

a  fine  house,  etc.  She  reads  Schiller  and  Cicero  and 
Racine,  and  makes  all  her  children's  clothes,  and  pots 
her  own  pickles  and  preserves,  and  is  a  perfect 
wonder  to  me.  On  my  way  home  I  stopped  in  New- 
buryport.  I  went  with  Mr.  Spalding  to  visit  Miss 
Hannah  Gould.  She  lives  there  in  a  great  house  all 
alone  She  is  a  little  "odd"  at  first,  but  simple  and 
sincere.  Her  front  entry  was  piled  up  with  soldier's 
traps,  and  she  is  a  thorough  patriot. 

Grace  Greenwood  made  me  a  flying  visit  on  the 
17th  inst.  Came  from  Whittier's  and  stopped  over 
one  train.  I  went  on  with  her  to  Lynn  to  join  a  party 
which  had  been  made  up  to  go  to  see  Hermann,  the 
Prestidigitateur — that's  Boston  for  juggler.  They 
chartered  a  horse  car,  thirty  or  so,  and  we  went  over 
to  Boston  at  six  and  came  home  at  12  P.M.  He  dis 
played  himself  in  the  theatre  and  swallowed  handker 
chiefs  to  a  marvellous  extent ;  it  was  the  first  exhibi 
tion  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw.  The  next  morning  I  went 
to  Cambridge  where  we  had  a  family  party,  it  being 
the  12th  anniversary  of  my  brother's  marriage,  and 
his  second  child,  little  Melly,  is  just  as  sweet  as  she 
can  be  and  survive.  The  next  day  was  memorable  as 
giving  me  my  first  glimpses  of  war.  I  suppose  it 
seems  incredible  to  you  that  anybody  should  have 
lived  in  this  tumultuous  country  for  the  last  six  or  nine 
mouths  and  not  have  seen  a  regiment,  —  not  even  a 
company, — but  it  is  the  sober  truth,  and  I  am  that 
body.  So  I  was  extremely  delighted  to  learn  that  the 
Cavalry  Company  was  to  come  in  that  day,  and  I 
climbed  up  on  an  apothecary's  shelf  and  saw  them 
pass  by.  I  thought  them  the  perfection  of  splendor, 
but  the  initiated  only  said  that  they  were  "  very  well, 
considering-." 


332    GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

Mr.  "W.,  are  you  not  ashamed  of  yourself  for  saying 
that  \ve  are  outside  Barbarians  who  don't  keep  Christ 
mas?  Keep  Christmas  indeed !  Didn't  I  tramp  over 
the  frozen  ground  a  mile  or  more  to  take  some  oranges 
and  some  money  and  some  brightness  to  a  poor  sick 
woman,  and  didn't  I  give  ten  cents  around  to  all  the 
children,  and  a  quarter  apiece  to  two  Irish  women  to 
go  to  the  Fair  with,  and  hunt  up  a  brass  candlestick 
among  the  neighbors  for  them  to  put  their  Xmas 
candle  in,  and  didn't  we  have  a  turkey,  and  then  a 
Fair  in  the  evening?  Oh!  now  you'd  better  talk 
about  on! side  Barbarians,  and  didn't  I  buy  a  catch-all 
at  the  Fair,  and  a  wax  baby  in  a  plaster  of  Paris  crib 
and  cotton  wool  blanket,  and  a  family  of  mice,  and  a 
doll's  hat,  and  a  silk  bag,  and  a  quilted  petticoat,  a 
brilliantiue  apron,  and  a  soft  ball  to  give  to  my  vari 
ous  juvenile  friends  for  Xmas  presents?  Not  keep 
Christmas?  Ask  my  purse  and  see  what  story  that 
will  tell.  I  am  impoverished  by  reason  of  the  in 
tensity  with  which  I  kept  it. 

I  took  my  Glengary  cap  out  of  camphor  weeks  ago, 
but  the  skating  does  not  appear.  There  is  plenty  of 
cold,  but  no  water  to  freeze.  We  lack  the  raw 
material.  However,  I  have  a  splendid  sled  which 
goes  at  a  2.40  pace  down  the  hills  about  here,  and  in 
lieu  of  ice  is  the  nicest  thing  in  the  world.  But  it  is 
cold  to-day,  not  so  cold,  either,  as  it  is  boisterous. 
The  wind  is  rampaging  about  our  house,  and  though 
my  coal-stove  is  brim  full,  I  cannot  get  the  summer 
heat.  My  hope  is  that  the  wind  will  presently  get 
tired  and  go  off.  We  all  wish  you  all  a  happy  New 
Year.  As  ever 

Yours  truly, 

M.  A.  I). 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  333 

HAMILTON,  February  11,  1862. 
We  are  to  have  a  new  Methodist  church.  $900  are 
subscribed.  "We,  as  a  people,  cannot  build  it," 
says  Mr.  -  — ,  but  the  Conference,  or  something,  is 
going  to  help  them.  So  says  report.  The  Metho 
dists  have  one  convert  —  I  have  forgotten  what 
special  rapscallion  it  is  —  but  Aaron  Caswell  tells 
Rev.  Kitwood  that  he  mustn't  put  any  dependence 
upon  him.  So  I  am  afraid  he  is  not  quite  so  con 
verted  as  might  be  desirable.  My  flowers  were  saved 
by  mother's  ingenuity.  There  was  a  pyramid  in  the 
middle  of  my  chamber  floor  when  I  stepped  in.  I 
had  a  good  hearty  laugh  all  to  myself  when  I  took  it 
down.  I  can't  describe  it,  but  I  will  give  you  the 
materials :  a  table,  flowers,  a  big  chair,  a  little  chair, 
a  cushion,  a  broomstick,  .a  pillow,  a  scarf,  a  lounge, 
a  dictionary  (Webster's  Unabridged),  a  writing-desk, 
a  big  shawl,  etc.,  etc.  The  flowers  drooped,  but  with 
the  exception  of  one  little  sprig,  they  have  all  come 
out  as  good  as  new.  I  had  to  knit  these  mittens  by 
guess.  If  they  don't  fit,  bring  them  home  and  I  will 
knit  another  pair. 

SARATOGA  SPRINGS,  NEW  YORK, 

July  24,  1862. 

MY  DEAR  MOTHER  :  I  wrote  to  you  from  Spring 
field.  At  Springfield  I  parted  company  with  my 
trunk  and  have  not  seen  it  since.  The  baggage- 
master  thinks  it  must  have  gone  up  to  Vermont 
somewhere,  and  we  have  been  telegraphing  back  and 
forth,  but  I  assure  you  it  is  not  very  comforting  to 
think  of  all  my  fine  things  lying  packed  up  in  my 
trunk,  tramping  around  among  the  hills  of  Vermont, 
and  me  promenading  in  my  old  travelling-dress,  a  kind 


334      GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IX   LETTERS 

of  chimney  swallow  among  the  Birds  of  Paradise. 
The  house  we  are  in  is  sometimes  called  "The  Saints' 
Rest,"  on  account  of  the  Reverends  and  D.D.'s  that 
congregate  here.  I  have  met  several  agreeable  peo 
ple  here,  one  a  highly  accomplished  and  beautiful 
woman  with  four  children ;  is  a  splendid  singer,  and 
has  lived  much  abroad.  We  are  intending  to  leave 
Saratoga  on  Monday,  and  shall  not  make  any  stay  of 
any  length  till  we  get  to  Montreal. 

The  trunk  has  come  safe  and  sound.  My  beautiful 
and  accomplished  lady,  Mrs.  Blanchard,  congratulates 
me,  "  though,"  she  adds  with  her  musical,  clear  voice, 
' '  your  costume  is  so  neat  in  itself  that  it  leaves  noth 
ing  to  be  desired." 

DECEMBER  23. 

I  had  a  magnificent  Christmas  box  on  Saturday 
from  an  enthusiastic  New  York  admirer,  containing  a 
set  of  the  New  Cyclopaedia,  bound  in  gilt  and  morocco, 
an  elegant  portfolio,  a  large  double  photograph 
album,  and  six  or  seveu  richly  bound  holiday  books : 
the  "Munich  Gallery,"  "Gems  of  British  Art," 
"  Bitter  Sweet,"  "  Sunshine  in  the  Country,"  etc., 
most  elegant  books  you  ever  saw,  from  a  man  whom 
I  never  heard  of  till  within  a  few  weeks  ;  he  tells  me 
in  his  letter  that  he  has  already  bought,  to  give  away, 
two  dozen  of  my  books.  You  must  come  on  and  see 
them,  but  I  shall  not  allow  Mr.  Emauuel  to  finger 
them. 

Our  minister  we  are  going  to  lose.  Mr.  Johnson 
asked  a  dismission  a  week  ago  Sunday.  It  was  quite 
unexpected  to  most  of  the  people.  We  are  very 
sorry  to  have  him  go.  I  do  not  know  any  one  better 
qualified  for  his  position  than  he.  He  is  a  very  gen- 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  335 

tlemanly,  intelligent,  and  scholarly  man.  Ho  remains 

till  after  New  Year.  Mr. brought  me  a  beautiful 

azalea  in  full  and  profuse  bloom,  for  a  Christmas  pres 
ent.  I  have  a  new  wire  flower-stand  on  which  this 
towers  preeminent ;  below  is  a  geranium  hovering 
between  life  and  death,  a  rose-bush  with  violent  symp 
toms  of  budding,  a  striped  verbena  decidedly  sprawly 
and  scrawny,  but  tough,  and  two  pots  of  crocuses  as 
yet  not  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  I  have  a  turnip  in 
a  broken  cup  hanging  by  the  side  of  the  window,  in 
which  a  morning-glory  is  struggling  against  fate,  and 
a  cocoanut  is  in  front  of  the  window  following  the 
same  course.  A  Coliseum  ivy  in  a  glazed  pot  hangs 
at  the  other  window  in  a  flourishing  condition.  In 
the  corner,  on  the  what-not,  is  a  beautiful  German 
pot  with  a  German  ivy  almost  run  up  to  the  ceiling. 

Did  I  tell  yon  I  had  a  letter  from  Parker  Pillsbury, 
speaking  in  the  highest  terms  of  some  papers  of  mine  ? 
Did  you  know  he  was  born  in  Hamilton?  He  thinks 
if  I  keep  on  Hamilton  may  yet  become  the  American 
Bethlehem ! 

December  10.  I  went  to  Boston,  heard  Wendell 
Phillips  lecture  before  the  Fraternity  audience  on  the 
President's  proclamation  —  very  fine.  Went  out  to 
Chelsea  that  night ;  the  next  day  visited  in  Cambridge. 
A.  and  I  went  into  Boston  in  the  afternoon  shopping. 
Velvet  bonnets  were  from  $17  to  $20,  and  I  don't 
know  how  much  more.  Felts  were  to  be  had  trimmed 
for  $9.50.  I  bought  a  drab  felt  for  $2.50,  ruche,  etc., 
to  the  amount  of  fifty  cents,  came  home,  took  an  old 
maroon  velvet  bonnet  and  feather,  and  two  drab 
feathers  of  an  old  bonnet,  and  have  made  such  a 
stylish  bonnet  as  would  cause  you  to  open  your  eyes 
ia  admiration.  Mother's  outfit  for  this  winter  consists 


336     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

chiefly  in  flannels,  a  new  cape  to  her  bonnet,  and  two 
pocket  handkerchiefs.  She  had  a  new  slate-colored 
thibet  in  the  fall.  Mr.  Dexter  wanted  me  to  send  by 
him  to  the  country  parson  a  copy  of  my  book  as  a 

kind  of  excuse  for  him  to  call.  Mr.  thought  he 

would  be  pleased  by  it,  so  I  took  one  of  the  amended 
fourth  edition  and  wrote,  "  If  the  country  Parson  will 
not  disdain  to  accept  a  nosegay  of  wild  flowers  from 
an  American  hillside,  he  will  give  a  great  pleasure  to 
one  of  the  sincerest  of  his  admirers,  G.  H.,"  etc.,  on 
the  fly-leaf.  On  my  way  home  from  Boston  we  went 
to  hear  Mr.  Milburn,  the  blind  lecturer — subject 
Milton — very  good. 

is  married,  we  hear,  out  in  New  York, 

where  she  taught,  —  you  remember  I  got  her  the 
school,  so  I  suppose  I  may  be  said  to  have  got  her 
the  husband.  I  hope  I  shall  not  be  held  responsible 
for  damages.  The  soldiers  have  all  left  us,  to  our 
great  satisfaction.  They  made  quite  too  free  with  the 
turkeys,  chickens,  cider,  etc.,  to  suit  the  ideas  of 
Hamilton  farmers.  They  were  not  very  well  offi 
cered —  one  of  the  regiments,  the  one  which  caused 
the  trouble. 

Mr.  Wood  is  coming  North  during  the  holidays, 
and  wants  me  to  meet  him  in  Boston  and  go  with  him 
to  Andover  to  Mrs.  Stowe's.  Shan't  do  it.  Mrs. 
Stowe  has  been  in  Washington  and  guve  him  the  in 
vitation.  In  my  book,  do  you  remember  a  paragraph 
concerning  "  Herman,  or  Young  Knighthood"?  The 
story  was  written  by  Miss  Palfrey,  daughter  of  John 
G.  Palfrey.  She  has  sent  me  a  copy  of  a  volume  of 
her  poems,  '•  With  the  very  hearty  thanks  for  more 
than  one  passage  in  C.  L.  and  C.  T.  of,"  etc. 

Write  early  and  write  often,  as  the  New  York  poli- 


BUSY  YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  337 

ticians  tell  their  Tammany  Hall-ers  to  vote.  Where 
people  are  so  far  away,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  the 
connecting  links  constantly  bright  by  being  well 
rubbed  with  paper. 

Yours  truly  and  affectionately, 

ABBY. 

[A  POSER.] 

HAMILTON,  MASS.,  February  3,  1863. 
Mr.  Derby,  my  friend,   on  the  nineteenth  of   this 
month,  I  sent  you  a  letter.     Did  you  receive  it? 
Yours  very  truly, 

M.  A.  D. 

Now,  Mary  Abby,  my  friend,  how  could  that  pos 
sibly  be?  Didn't  you  mean  the  nineteenth  of  next 
mouth? 

SMITH. 

FEBRUARY  16,  1863. 

Mother  never  knows  how  to  write  when  I  am  at 
home.  Her  only  satisfaction  is  to  sly  a  letter  away 
somewhere  in  the  fall  of  the  secretary,  and  take  it 
out  at  odd  minutes  after  I  have  gone  to  bed,  or  when 
she  thinks  I  am  quartered  in  my  room  for  the  day. 
Once  in  a  while  I  take  her  in  the  very  act,  and  she 
looks  as  guilty  as  you  please.  So  now  you  must  take 
me  for  want  of  a  better. 

C.  and  S.  were  here  to  tea  Monday,  long  enough 
to  hear  a  few  of  my  book-letters  read.  Mother  is 
greatly  alarmed  lest  I  should  be  puffed  up  overmuch, 
but  no  sooner  does  any  member  of  the  family  come 
into  the  house  than  she  says,  "Oh,  Abby,  just  get 
your  St.  Louis  letter  ami  read,"  or  your  New  York 


338     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

letter,  or  your  Chicago  letter,  as  it  happens.  And  if 
she  has  heard  them  read  three  hundred  times  before, 
she  sits  with  as  wide-open  ears  as  if  they  were  en 
tirely  new  and  fresh.  Not  a  newspaper  puff  appears 
but  1  see  her  "  nosing  round  "  among  the  old  papers 
with  her  scissors  three  or  four  days  afterwards,  and 
I  can  always  detect  her  errand  by  her  "sheepish" 
look.  At  a  breath  of  censure,  you  should  see  the 
furies  that  flash  from  her  eyes  —  but  /am  in  danger 
of  being  puffed  up  ! 

A.  D.  Richardson,  brother  of  the  "  Congregational- 
ist"  man,  correspondent  of  the  "Tribune,"  lecturer, 
etc.,  wrote  me  the  other  day  saying  he  wished  I  would 
write  some  sort  of  an  address  to  the  women  of  the 
country ;  he  thought,  and  General  Howard  thought, 
something  of  the  sort  might  do  good.  It  was,  of 
course,  rather  an  indefinite  "general  order,"  but  I 
put  down  a  few  notes  of  things  in  which  I  thought 
there  might  be  an  improvement.  While  I  was  writing- 
it,  a  letter  came  from  C.  A.  Richardson  wishing  me 
to  come  to  Boston  to  hear  Mason  Jones,  the  Irish 
orato  I  went  straight  to  Mr.  Fields  to  see  if  an 
article,  supposing  it  was  written,  could  go  into  the 
next  "  Atlantic."  That  night  I  went  to  hear  Mason 
Jones,  was  quite  pleased  with  him,  went  over  to 
Chelsea  with  the  Richardsons,  and  the  next  day  stayed 
there  and  wrote  a  little  notice  of  the  Mason  Jones 
affair,  and  then  wrote  my  appeal  to  the  women.  In 
the  morning  took  my  paper  to  Boston  to  Mr.  Fields, 
who  read  it,  liked  it.  Mrs.  Fields  came  down  and 
gave  it  a  name,  and  it  comes  out  in  the  March  num 
ber.  I  thought  you  might  like  to  have  the  history  of 
one  article.  It  was  done  up  in  about  the  shortest 
metre  of  any  article  I  ever  wrote,  and  I  suppose  it 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  339 

will  go  at  right  angles  with  all  your  convictions  and 
principles. 

Thursday  Mr.  Fields  invited  me  to  go  with  him  to 
a  reading-club  they  had  in  Boston,  —  about  twenty- 
five, —  Agassiz,  Holmes,  Mrs.  Howe,  E.  P.  Whip- 
pie,  etc.  They  were  going  to  meet  that  night  at  the 
Governor's,  and  he  was  going  to  read  the  commence 
ment  of  one  of  my  (unpublished)  articles,  —  one,  by 
the  way,  in  which  Alvin  figures.  When  you  were 
paddling  us  round  in  the  pigs'  trough  iu  the  orchard, 
you  didn't  dream  that  the  Governor  would  ever  have 
the  story,  did  you?  I  didn't. 

Mr.  Wood  sent  me  ten  dollars  the  other  day  to  get 
some  white  cotton  socks  knit  for  him.  I  have  bought 
the  yarn,  and  some  people  in  Beverly  are  going  to 
knit  them.  He  gives  a  very  amusing  account  of  his 
domestic  affairs  in  a  letter  I  received  from  him  to 
day.  His  seamstress  has  unfortunately  —  for  him  — 
and  perhaps  for  her !  —  been  lately  married,  and  he 
put  out  his  stockings  and  things  to  a  new  person. 
He  said  he  thought  he  would  look  at  them  when  they 
came  back,  and  found  they  looked  kt  darned  ugly." 
He  could  find  in  his  whole  stock  only  one  shirt  to  put 
on  —  all  the  rest  had  a  button  off,  or  a  rent  in  the 
bosom.  Grateful  for  that  one,  he  assumed  it,  but  on 
buttoning  the  collar,  off  came  the  button ;  so  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  sew  it  on  himself ;  and  put 
ting  it  on  once  more,  he  found  he  had  got  the  button 
on  the  wrong  side. 

Don't  attempt  to  ridicule  father  out  of  his  river- 
fear.  Fire  and  water  are  the  only  two  things  he  is 
afraid  of,  and  them  he  fears  both  by  wholesale 
and  retail,  much  more  than  is  good  for  himself  or 
others. 


340     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

MARCH  6. 

Saturday  Augusta  and  I  went  to  Boston  together. 
I  went  to  Mr.  Fields'  office  when  I  first  got  to  town 
and  left  my  basket,  and  told  him  I  would  come  back 
about  five  to  go  home  with  him,  which  I  did,  and  we 
had  supper  at  six  and  rode  to  the  concert  at  seven. 
It  was  by  Madame  Urso.  You  may  remember  Cam 
illa  Urso,  who  was  around  several  years  ago  playing 
the  violin  as  a  child — nine  or  ten.  Since  then  she 
has  been  married,  lived  in  Memphis  —  had  five,  some 
say  seven,  children,  a  miserable,  good-for-nothing 
husband  who  lias  promised  to  keep  away  from  her, 
and  now  she  is  trying  to  support  her  three  sur 
viving  children  by  her  art.  She  has  had  almost 
no  practice  for  these  years,  yet  musical  artists 
say  that  her  skill  is  unimpaired  and  that  she 
even  plays  better  than  ever.  How  that  may  be  I 
cannot  say,  but  I  never  heard  anything  so  fine  come 
from  a  fiddle.  When  we  got  home  we  found  Haw 
thorne  there,  who  remained  as  long  as  I  stayed.  lie 
is  a  glorious  man,  a  very  ideal  man  in  his  personal 
appearance,  with  an  infinite  forehead,  his  gray,  dry, 
long  hair  thrown  back  from  it  in  all  directions,  deep 
lamps  of  eyes  glowing  out  from  under  their  heavy 
arches,  black  eyebrows  and  moustache,  a  florid, 
healthy  face  —  a  pure,  sensitive,  reticent,  individual 
man  whom  it  is  enough  to  have  seen,  to  have  looked 
at,  to  have  been  in  the  same  house  with.  He  talks 
little,  but  he  talks  extremely  well.  You  see  the  same 
peculiarities  in  his  conversation  that  charm  you  in  his 
English  papers  in  the  "  Atlantic."  On  Sunday  even 
ing  several  people  were  in  and  he  disappeared  alto 
gether.  Three  or  four  times  I  would  look  up  at  him 
across  the  table  and  find  his  deep,  inextinguishable 


BUSY  YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  341 

eyes  looking  at  me  —  and  when  he  said  "  Good-by  "  he 
invited  me  to  come  to  Concord,  and  said  he  would 
assure  me  of  a  welcome,  and  that  I  should  not  be 
pestered  with  admiration,  and  that  he  would  take  me 
to  Emerson,  etc.  I  shall  never  go,  but  it  was  nice  to 
be  asked.  Moncure  D.  Conway,  whom  you  pi'obably 
know  about,  stayed  there  Sunday  night.  He  reminds 
me  much  of  Alvin,  is  tall  and  slender,  dark  hair,  eyes, 
and  whiskers,  and  a  nose  large  and  somewhat  like 
Alvin's.  I  liked  him,  too.  The  trouble  with  me  is 
that  I  like  everybody.  Monday  morning  we  went 
down  to  breakfast  at  half-past  eight,  and  did  not  get 
upstairs  till  near  ten.  Mr.  Fields  himself  is  very 
entertaining  and  amusing,  a  fine  mimic,  genial  and 
funny,  and  I  had  nothing  to  do  but  listen  and  laugh 
and  look  at  Hawthorne,  when  I  was  sure  he  would 
not  be  looking  at  me.  I  also  had  a  long  talk  with 
Holmes,  who  is  as  crisp  and  clear  and  incisive  in  his 
talk  as  in  his  books.  He  is  a  man  who  has  an  admir 
able  command  of  all  his  resources.  His  sword  is 
two-edged  and  keen.  You  don't  need  to  talk  your 
self  ;  he  keeps  the  ball  rolling  without  aid,  and  his 
talk  is  extremely  good,  though  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  had 
the  full  benefit  of  it.  I  would  have  much  preferred 
being  alone  with  him,  but  there  were  others  in  the 
room,  though  the  conversation  was  mine.  Also,  I 
saw  Rev.  Mr.  Waterston,  whose  only  child,  a  daughter 
of  eighteen,  died  in  Rome.  Whittier  wrote  a  poem 
upon  it.  He  gave  me  a  very  cordial  and  urgent  in 
vitation  to  visit  his  house,  and  I  believe  I  made  a 
promise  to  do  so.  Also,  I  saw  Mr.  Quincy,  grandson 
of  old  Josiah,  and  son  of  young  Josiah  Quincy.  Mr. 
Fields'  house  is  full  of  pictures  and  autographs  and 
curious  things,  old  books,  etc.,  a  set  of  Byron's 


342     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

poems,  which  he  himself  had  bound  and  gave  to  Leigh 
Hunt  with  his  own  inscription  inside,  a  "  Boccacio" 
which  Leigh  Hunt's  wife  gave  him  before  they  were 
married  and  which  he  gave  back  to  her  afterwards 
on  the  anniversary  of  their  wedding-day,  photograph 
books  of  English  people  —  the  Queen  and  the  Royal 
Family  —  the  Queen,  by  the  way,  being  as  dumpy  a 
little  Dutch  girl  as  you  shall  see  in  "Knickerbocker." 
I  came  home  the  next  morning;  found  several  books 
awaiting  me,  one  from  a  Mr.  John  Tappan,  a  rich  old 
man  of  Boston,  who  was  much  pleased  with  an  article 
on  Dea.  Safford,  which,  by  the  way,  has  created  quite 
a  sensation  about  here.  Mr.  Fields  tells  me  that  a 
gentleman  from  New  Hampshire  sent  down  to  him 
requesting  permission  to  copy  "A  Call  to  my 
Countrywomen"  in  the  N.H.  papers,  and  also  to  have 
it  printed  in  pamphlet  form  for  general  distribution, 
which  he  granted.  So  you  may  imagine  me  election 
eering  in  N.H.  to  some  purpose,  I  hope.  Wednesday 
I  went  to  Newburyport  —  found  Mrs.  Spalding  very 
comfortably  located  at  the  boarding-house  of  a  Mr. 
Tilton,  and  looking  much  better  than  I  have  seen  her 
this  long  while,  which  I  attribute  to  entire  absence  of 
housekeeping  cares.  Mrs.  Bannister,  who  used  to 
be  Miss  Grant,  boards  in  the  same  house  with  her. 
When  I  was  at  Ipswich  I  used  to  be  sent  over  to  Mrs. 
Bannister's  every  now  and  then,  to  "mend  my  man 
ners,"  I  suppose,  and  I  acquired  such  a  fear  and 
horror  of  Mrs.  B.  that  I  have  never  had  any  toleration 
of  her  since,  but  she  invited  me  into  her  room  and  as 
I  did  not  quite  know  how  to  refuse,  I  went  and  spent 
a  very  agreeable  half  hour  with  her.  I  asked  Mrs. 
Cowles  afterwards  if  Mrs.  B.  had  not  limbered  up. 
She  said  she  thought  it  was  I  that  had  changed  and  not 


BUSY  YEARS  IN    HAMILTON  343 

she,  which  may  be  the  case.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  and  Miss 
Gage  also  board  there.  He  was  a  Unitarian,  but  after 
wards  became  Orthodox  ;  has  been  much  abroad,  and 
is  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  German  litera 
ture,  is  familiar  with  German  biography  and  theology. 
He  is  supplying  Mr.  Spalding's  pulpit,  having  re 
signed  his  own  on  account  of  illness  ;  is  leisurely  writ 
ing  a  book.  I  had  an  extremely  interesting  and  valu 
able  talk  with  him,  and  the  next  morning  he  went  to 
the  station  with  me  and  gave  me  a  book  of  his  own 
on  a  subject  which  we  had  discussed,  "  Zum  Ged- 
achtniss  eines  unvergesclichen  Abends,"  which,  being 
interpreted,  means  ';  in  memory  of  a  never-to-be- 
forgotten  evening."  We  have  had  the  smartest  snow 
storm  of  the  season.  Didn't  go  out  yesterday  ;  snow 
at  the  gate  almost  up  to  my  neck.  I  have  shovelled 
a  path  through  it  just  in  time  for  the  minister  to  come 
and  make  me  a  call,  wants  to  come  here.  Ratherish 
odd,  I  should  think,  —  introduced,  he  asked  at  once  if 
this  was  the  authoress.  I  told  him  no,  it  was  the 
coal  heaver,  duster,  and  washer,  but  took  him  into  the 
parlor.  He  asked  if  I  liked  to  write.  I  said  he  must 
wait  till  my  "  Life  and  Sufferings  "  were  published. 
Was  I  much  interested  in  matters  of  the  town?  Well, 
yes,  but  I  did  not  think  I  should  go  to  town-meeting 
to-morrow.  Did  I  intend  to  spend  the  rest  of  my 
days  here?  I  should  probably  stay  the  rest  of  the 
winter,  especially  as  spring  has  already  come  in.  On 
the  whole,  I  have  not  made  up  my  mind  about  him, 
and  unless  he  comes  to  stay,  shall  not  probably  do  so 
at  present.  This  much  is  certain,  he  is  not  Mr. 
Johnson. 


344    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

MAUCII  17. 

We  had  quite  an  eventful  morning.  AVheu  I  went 
downstairs  this  morning  mother  was  standing  keeled 
up  over  the  wood  box  in  the  sitting-room,  holding  the 
cover  open  at  a  respectful  distance  and  the  cat  claw 
ing  inside  "like  mad."  I  began  to  take  out  the 
sticks  with  the  tongs  amidst  a  flutter  of  paper,  the 
cat  growing  eager  every  moment,  and  as  I  removed  the 
last  stick  I  caught  sight  of  the  fore-quarters  of  a 
mouse  making  frantic  attempts  to  scale  the  ramparts, 
but  he  was  gone  in  a  minute  into  the  inexorable  jaws, 
and  I  reflected  how  necessary  it  is  to  be  a  cat  if  one 
would  catch  mice  !  No  human  agility  could  seize  that 
swift-footed  animal  in  its  electric  transit.  The  cat, 
after  having  devoured  the  mouse  and  been  sufficiently 
petted  and  praised  for  simply  doing  her  '•  dooty,"  let 
alone  following  her  inclinations,  began  to  look  strange, 
shaky,  and  bewildered,  and  finally  lay  down  and  went 
into  a  long  fit,  or  a  succession  of  short  fits,  after 
which  it  became  necessary  to  remove  the  cat  out 
doors  and  to  keep  her  out  also.  Saturday  afternoon 
Mrs.  J.  H.  Ilannaford,  with  a  friend,  a  Mrs.  Webber, 
and  two  boys,  came  up  in  a  sleigh  and  made  a  call  of 
an  hour  or  so!  Monday  I  had  a  letter  from  A.  I). 
Richardson,  now  in  Washington,  — says  he  has  heard 
only  words  of  praise  for  "  The  Call,"  and  thinks  il 
must  do  much  good.  Mrs.  Fremont  and  her  daughter 
spoke  of  it  in  the  highest  terms.  This  morning  1  luul 
a  letter  from  Boston  requesting  permission  to  print 
"The  Call "  in  pamphlet  form  for  general  distribu 
tion  ! 

I  went  to  Amesbury,  to  Whittier's,  on  Mrs.  Bailey's 
biography  business.  They  did  not  know  I  was  com 
ing.  I  rang  the  bell,  was  shown  into  the  sitting-room 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  345 

where  Miss  Whittier  sat  reading  faciug  the  door,  and 
he  writing,  back,  ditto.  I  went  up  to  her  and  said, 
"shall  I  have  to  introduce  myself?"  She  had  seen 
me  only  twice  —  both  times  in  summer  dress.  She 
rose,  said  "  No,"  but  looked  dubious.  lie  jumped  up 
and  came  to  me  with  both  hands  extended,  "  Why,  it 
is  Gail  Hamilton,"  and  then  we  all  three  walked  into 
Paradise^  shut  the  gate,  and  threw  away  the  key.  I 
can't  tell  you  all  we  talked  about.  Miss  W.  is  a 
modest,  large-eyed,  but  not  beautiful  woman,  gentle, 
timid  rather,  but  opening  to  acquaintance  —  not  well, 
full  of  tastes  and  sympathies  and  sense,  no  silliness 
—  heart  not  very  demonstrative,  nor  very  the  con 
trary.  He  is  the  king  of  men  and  what  is  the  good  of 
talkiug  ?  We  talked  about  the  Baileys  aud  the  anti- 
slavery  cause.  He  thinks  the  biography  should  be 
written,  "  and  nobody  would  do  it  as  well  as  thee  if 
thee  would  undertake  it,"  but  thee  won't  —  and  be 
sides  she  can't.  It  would  be  a  labor  of  love  to  him, 
but  his  health  is  not  sufficient.  He  thinks  Mrs.  Bailey 
herself  would  make  a  very  readable  book.  We  both 
concluded  that  John  G.  Palfrey  was  the  man,  if  avail 
able.  They,  too^  like  "  Spasm  of  Sense"  extremely. 
I  lamented  that  I  could  not  be  anonymous.  I  had 
always  meant  to  be,  but  never  succeeded.  "It  is  a 
great  deal  better  as  it  is.  It  puts  thee  on  thy  good 
behavior."  "You  don't  trust  me,"  I  said.  "  Yes,  I 
do  trust  thee,  but  thee  has  a  great  audacity  —  great 
audacity."  I  told  him  of  my  Christmas  present. 
Both  wei'e  surprised  and  delighted.  Miss  W.  said 
when  any  good  thing  came  to  her  it  seemed  so  strange 
that  she  should  have  it  —  be  thought  worthy  of  it.  "I 
warrant  thee  didn't  feel  so,"  said  Whittier.  "No,"  I 
said,  "  I  took  them  like  a  queen."  He  laughed  and 


346     OAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

clapped  bis  hands  in  great  glee.  We  were  talking  of 
music  and  I  bemoaned  my  incapacity.  "  Thee 
mustn't  complain,"  he  said,  "  the  Lord  has  given  thee 
a  great  deal."  We  talked  theology  like  fury.  I  told 
him  we  had  one  of  his  Amesbury  ministers  eleven 

years.     "Did    thee   sit   under  ?"     You  should 

have  seen  the  tone  and  expression,  "  I  wonder  thee 
has  come  out  of  it."  "He  was  a  good  neighbor 
enough,  but  I  thought  him  a  mighty  stupid  fellow." 
He  told  how  he  had  berated  Harriet  Kimball  for  leav 
ing  the  Congregational  and  joining  the  P^piscopal 
Church.  Miss  W.  said  it  was  the  most  cruel  thing  I 
ever  heard.  He  had  no  mercy,  and  she  sat  as  meek 
as  could  be  and  "  supposed  it  was  all  deserved."  He 
said  he  had  a  qualm  of  conscience  afterwards,  she 
was  so  patient.  "  Now  if  it  had  been  thee,  I  wouldn't 
have  cared."  "But  you  would  have  let  me  pay 
back,"  I  said.  "  I  should  have  known  thee  would." 
They  had  a  parrot  which  kisses  and  snuggles  up  and 
walks  over  the  house  and  asks  for  water  and  eats 
peach  preserves.  I  lamented  that  I  did  not  look  as 
an  intellectual  woman  should  and  made  a  fool  of  my 
self  when  I  wished  to  be  particularly  wise.  He  said 
that  was  the  best  part  of  it  —  that  he  liked  me  be 
cause  I  didn't  seem  literary  —  bore  no  mark  of  mental 
effort,  care,  or  logic.  Well,  are  you  tired?  Pooh! 
I  could  spin  out  a  bookful  and  have  plenty  left  for  an 
appendix.  When  I  came  away  he  said  he  thought 
some  good  angel  must  have  sent  me.  He  had  had  a 
headache  the  day  before,  and  I  rather  suspect  they 
both  needed  a  brighten ing-up.  I  went  in  the  ten 
o'clock  train  to  Mrs.  Spalding's,  and  as  it  was  Fast 
Day  went  to  church  with  her  and  heard  Mr.  Gage 
preach  a  very  good  sermon,  though  he  told  me  after- 


BUSY  YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  347 

wards  it  was  a  year  or  so  old.  At  tea  Mrs.  Bannis 
ter  asked  me  to  come  into  her  room,  which  I  did,  and 
then  she  invited  me  to  climb  into  her  big  sofa  rocking- 
chair,  which  I  did,  and  then  she  bade  me  stay  there, 
which  I  did,  and  she  rocked  me,  and  I  live  to  tell  it ! 
Friday  I  called  to  see  my  old  friend  Fanny  Goodale 
Thurston,  whose  husband  has  just  asked  a  dismission 
from  his  church,  —  also  on  Marianna  Porter,  and  we 
talked  about  Miss  Prescott,  who,  she  says,  is  as  good 
as  gold,  but  believes  in  nothing,  past  or  future,  man  or 
woman,  but  is  desperately  in  love  with  Dick  Spofford. 
Saturday  I  had  a  letter  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fields, 
filled  with  gratitude  and  delight  at  an  article  which  I 
had  written  to  please  her,  —  on  a  musical  theme, — 
just  think  of  it ! 

HAMILTON,  MASS.,  April  21,  1863. 
I  came  across  "  Brisee  "  in  a  bookstore  the  other 
day,  and  bought  it  and  read  it.  If  I  am  right  you 
said  it  was  written  by  two  young  girls —  sisters,  I 
think,  seventeen  years  old.  If  so  it  is  quite  won 
derful,  and  whether  so  or  not,  it  exhibits  great 
power,  yet  it  offends  me  deeply.  I  have  been  read 
ing  with  great  delight  John  Stuart  Mill's  late  work 
"On  Liberty."  Also  an  old  work  —  at  least  ten 
years  or  so  —  and  that  is  old,  you  know,  in  these 
times,  —  "  Thorndale."  I  dare  say  you  have  seen 
it.  Such  a  black  Baptist  sheep  as  you  would  of 
course  have  alighted  on  a  work  like  that.  It  is  full 
of  thought.  Let  me  give  you  a  piece  of  advice. 
Whenever  you  feel  in  the  mood  to  write  a  letter, 
don't  fold  up  the  mood  and  put  it  away  in  a 
drawer  out  of  any  charitable  motives !  In  fact, 
such  humility  in  one  of  your  sex  —  and  I  believe  I 


348     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

may  add  without  offense,  in  one  of  your  spirit  —  is 
rather  suspicious,  and  I  have  a  notion  that  it  was 
only  part  mercy  —  and  the  other  and  larger  part, 
inertia !  Human  nature,  you  know,  is  so  apt  to 
baptize  an  inclination  with  the  name  of  a  duty.  Now 
be  frank  and  confess  that  I  am  at  least  nine-tenths 
right.  And  what  right  have  you,  pray,  to  localize 
Daniel  Webster  in  the  inhuman  way  you  do?  My 
excuse  for  you  is  that  you  have  dwelt  so  much  among 
the  possible  scenes  of  the  "  Future  Life  "  that  you  mix 
up  the  two  worlds  rather  indiscriminately,  fancying 
that  the  judgments  you  pronounce  for  this  may 
apply  also,  or  rather  lap  over,  into  the  next.  But 
you  must  bear  in  mind  that  Apollo  is  neither  Jupiter 
nor  Rhadamanthus. 

I  must  say  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to  understand  why 
there  should  be  any  difficulty  about  entertaining  the 
Haytien  Ambassadors.  They  are  the  accredited 
ministers  of  an  accredited  government,  and  I  think 
this  embarrassment  is  the  most  arrant  nonsense  and 
the  most  vulgar  prejudice,  and  why  Lord  Lyons  and 
the  foreign  diplomats  should  be  troubled  of  soul,  I 
cannot  comprehend.  1  wish  I  was  the  leader  of 
society  in  Washington !  I  would  put  one  or  two 
things  through,  I  warrant  you,  and  all  opponents 
should  bite  the  dust !  But  "  thee  mustn't  complain," 
says  Whittier,  "  the  Lord  has  given  thee  a  great 
deal." 

Did  you  know  a  woman  in  Washington  has  been 
claiming  the  authorship  of  "Country  Living,"  etc.? 
Somebody  down  in  Maine  wrote  to  me  a  circumstan 
tial  account  of  the  whole  affair.  A  gentleman  had 
"  seen  the  manuscript,"  and  the  "  world  would  soon 
be  undeceived,"  my  correspondent  had  been  informed, 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  349 

and  I  was  begged  to  say  yes  or  no  to  the   author 
ship. 

APRIL  25. 

April  21  was  distinguished  in  the  Royal  Family  of 
Hamilton  by  the  reception  of  a  bundle  of  "Calls," 
sent  by  Mr.  Barnard,  part  of  an  edition  of  5,000 
printed  for  general  circulation.  Wednesday  to  Bos 
ton  to  see  Bierstadfs  picture  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
I  was  introduced  to  a  Miss  Hammond,  who  was  the 
most  brilliant  talker  I  ever  heard,  talked  pretty  much 
all  the  time,  but  without  any  arrogance  or  assump 
tion  —  naturally,  easily,  with  the  most  musical 
voice  and  the  most  perfect  enunciation  imaginable  — 
talk  rippling,  overflowing  with  wit  and  humor  and 
satire  and  sense.  I  thought  of  Miss  Palfrey,  of  whom 
Mr.  Fields  has  several  times  spoken  to  me  as  a  very 
brilliant  person.  At  the  table  Mrs.  Fields  let  drop 
from  her  lips  the  name  ' '  Miss  Palfrey "  and  I  saw 
the  plot  at  ouce.  This  Miss  Palfrey  is  the  daughter 
of  John  G.  Palfrey  —  and  wrote  "Herman,  or  Young 
Knighthood,"  of  which  you  may  have  heard  a  certain 
book  speak  in  very  high  terms  of  praise.  Miss  Pal 
frey  was  much  pleased  and  sent  the  author  a  volume 
of  her  poems  with  a  neat  little  inscription.  Well  I 
saw  just  how  it  was.  They,  knowing  that  I  always 
hate  to  "  meet "  people,  and  yet  wanting  to  bring  us 
together,  had  planned  a  ruse.  Mrs.  Fields  had  come 
down  to  the  office  to  see  if  I  would  come,  and  hur 
ried  away  to  secure  Miss  Palfrey  and  were  going  to 
get  me  acquainted  with  her  under  the  mask  of  some 
common  Miss  Hammond  before  I  knew  it.  I  said 
nothing,  but  after  supper  when  we  were  going  up 
stairs  Mr.  Fields  said  to  me  "  Isn't  she  bright?" 


350    GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

and  I  said  "  There  is  hut  one,"  and  we  hoth  laughed 
and  understood  it.  He  said  he  knew  his  wife  would 
let  it  out  before  it  was  ready  to  come.  However,  we 
all  went  home  with  Miss  Palfrey  and  then  we  went  to 
a  concert,  a  performance  of  the  old  church  music  of 
England,  which  was  very  fine,  — much  finer,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  F.  both  said,  than  it  was  generally  performed 
in  the  English  cathedrals.  The  next  morning  Miss 
Palfrey  came  again  and  invited  us  all  to  tea  that 
evening,  but  1  was  coming  home  at  night,  so  it  was 
postponed  till  my  next  visit.  She  said  her  father 
came  to  the  door  that  evening  in  hope  of  an  intro 
duction,  but  he  was  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  and  we 
were  at  the  bottom,  so  it  would  have  had  to  be  hal 
looed. 

MAY,   186,3. 

I  treated  the  company  to  oysters.  It  was  mother's 
first  experiment  with  them,  and  when  I  asked  how 
she  liked  them,  she  answered  politely  that  she  neither 
liked  nor  disliked,  for  there  was  no  taste  to  'em  ! 
Then  we  went  to  Bierstadt's  picture,  and  then  they 
went  to  Cambridge,  and  I  went  shopping  around 
promiscuously  and  to  Mr.  Field's  office  awhile  and 
then  to  his  house,  where  were  Mrs.  Hawthorne  and 
her  daughter  Rose.  Mrs.  H.  is  a  short  woman,  not 
so  tall  as  I,  with  a  peculiarly  pure  look,  — the  look  of 
a  woman  who  has  had  a  life  of  content.  Her  hair  is 
slightly  gray  and  slightly  wavy.  She  is  very  simple 
and  straightforward  —  quiet  in  all  her  tints  and  tones. 
Her  husband  is  to  her  just  as  much  a  hero  and  lover 
now  as  he  was  the  day  she  married  him.  She  is 
receptive  and  kindly  —  just  such  a  wife  as  Hawthorne 
should  have.  Do  you  care  to  know  how  she  was 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  351 

dressed?  A  black  velvet  Zouave  jacket  trimmed 
with  two-inch-or-so  broad  lace,  a  skirt  of  some  black 
and  white  striped  stuff,  a  white  under-waist  of  white 
musliii  and  lace  and  things,  a  handkerchief  pin, 
collar- pin,  and  belt- buckle  with  a  carbuncle,  and  I 
nevor  so  much  liked  a  carbuncle  before.  It  glowed 
like  a  liquid  ruby  drop  in  her  soft  muslin.  Rose  is 
perhaps  ten  or  twelve  years  old,  a  quiet,  well-bied 
child,  prettily  colored,  with  the  poet's  gold  in  her  hair, 
but  which  common  eyes  would  call  red,  —  such  a  com 
plexion  as  light  blue  befits.  We  spent  the  evening 
quietly  by  ourselves,  Mr.  —  -  being  with  us  a  part 
of  the  time  and  upstairs,  writing,  a  part  —  but  we 
talked  him  out  and  off  to  bed  long  before  we  went 
ourselves,  which  was  not  till  after  twelve. 

Dr.  M unlock  wants  me  to  write  for  the  "  Watch 
man  and  Reflector,"  "  satisfactory  price,"  etc.  I 
told  him  I  was  pretty  fully  engaged,  but  he  wished  me 
not  to  say  no  right  off,  but  think  about  it  awhile.  I 
was  not  to  tell  the  "  Congregationalist"  or  anybody 
about  it,  and  you  see  I  don't.  About  every  time  I  go 
to  Boston,  Mr.  Fields  belabors  me  about  not  "  spread 
ing  myself,"  etc.,  that  nothing  is  worse  than  to  be 
come  common,  etc.  So  he  would  be  pleased  with  Dr. 
M's  proposition.  My  rose-bush  has  three  buds  on 
it,  and  I  have  put  some  of  my  flowers  and  my  bird 
outdoors  this  morning.  Your  pamphlet  wants  "  such 
beneficent  disarmament  and  coercion  to  be  enforced 
by  heroic  volunteers  in  ample  numbers,  who  are  will 
ing  to  lose  their  own  lives  if  need  be,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 
That  is  precisely  what  I  want.  The  precise  manner 
in  which  the  Peace  Society  proposes  to  accomplish 
this  I  have  never  yet  seen.  I  suppose  they  would  go 
down  on  the  Rappahanock  and  tie  a  pocket-handker- 


352     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

chief  over  the  muzzle  of  every  gun.  If  in  any  way 
they  can  disarm  the  rebels  I  should  be  heartily  glad 
to  have  them  bestir  themselves.  Meanwhile  the  best 
method  seems  to  me  to  have  plenty  of  men,  guns,  and 
ammunition  in  the  field,  and  faith,  hope,  and  charity 
at  home,  and  bung  away.  Trust  in  God  and  dry 
powder  is  the  best  Peace  Association  I  ever  heard  of. 
You  should  remember,  too,  that  the  object  of  war  is 
not  to  shoot  and  mutilate  as  many  as  possible.  It  is 
only  to  do  just  so  much  of  it  as  is  necessary  to  coer 
cion.  This  is  not  only  a  theoretical,  but  a  practical 
distinction.  It  is  a  fact  that  shooting  that  brings 
nothing  to  bear  is  everywhere  frowned  upon.  It  is  a 
fact  that  the  moment  the  men  whom  you  are  trying 
to  kill  are  blown  into  the  water,  you  peril  your  life  to 
save  them.  It  is  a  fact  that  men  are  taught  to  shoot 
low,  because  your  enemy's  life  is  not  desired,  only 
that  he  should  be  put  liors  de  combat.  What  we  are 
all  striving  after  is  peace,  with  a  basis  of  righteous 
ness. 

JUNE  11,  1863. 

I  beg  that  you  will  not  go  out  of  your  way  to  strike 
down  my  friend  "  Thorudale,"  because  it  is  not  a  relig 
ious  novel  at  all,  nor  any  kind  of  a  novel.  I  dare  say 
you  have  never  read  the  book,  you  are  certainly  be 
laboring  the  wrong  name ;  but  the  fact  is,  you  are  so 
heterodox  yourself  that  you  will  not  let  any  one  else 
come  near.  You  wish  to  monopolize  the  heresies  in 
your  own  proper  person,  and  so  you  fend  off  every 
one  else  who  shows  the  smallest  disposition  to  over 
leap  boundaries.  And  as  for  your  somebody's  "  His 
tory  of  Baptism,"  which  you  counsel  me  to  read,  I 
assure  you  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  Is  it  not 
enough  that  I  have  to  wade  through  (speaking  Bap- 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  353 

tistically)  your  periodic  homilies  on  the  subject,  but 
I  must  straightway  involve  myself  in  Octavo  Appen 
dices?  I  attribute  your  ever-recurring  dissertations 
to  some  new  outcropping  of  original  sin.  Whenever 
you  have  been  guilty  of  some  special  worldly  enormity 
you  atone  for  it  by  a  theological  thunderstorm,  which 
always  bursts  on  me.  Fortunately  it  could  not  break 
on  one  better  able  to  stand  it.  I  am  glad  that  you 
are  enjoying  the  ministrations  of  an  able  shepherd, 
and  hope  it  will  bring  you  to  a  better  mind.  We, 
too,  are  in  hopes  to  secure  a  trumpeter  who  will  give 
no  uncertain  sound,  but  we  are  not  yet  confident. 

I  am  very  glad  you  liked  Camilla's  face,  for  I  do  not 
think  it  eminently  calculated  to  please  the  populace, 
so  it  must  depend  for  suffrage  upon  the  upper  classes. 

All  your  letter  was  interesting  and  amusing.  I  do 
not  in  the  least  wonder  that  you  write  such  long  let 
ters,  for  I  should  do  it  myself  if  I  only  had  the  time. 
I  think  it  is  very  charming  business,  and  I  think,  too, 
that  you  have  a  peculiar  knack  at  writing  letters. 
They  are  not  exactly  letters,  and  not  exactly  essays, 
but  a  cross  between  the  two.  I  often  find  myself 
lamenting  that  so  much  fine  writing  should  be  wasted 
on  the  desert  air.  I  do  my  best  to  prevent  it  by  read 
ing  them  to  the  whole  family,  and  we  have  many  a 
hearty  laugh  over  them.  I  assure  you  I  explain  all 
the  wickedness  out  so  as  to  make  it  as  palpable  and 
undisguised  as  possible,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
wickedness  in  your  letters,  Baptist  that  you  are. 

All  your  civic  arrangements  for  me  are  very  clever, 
and  you  are  to  consider  me  as  bowing  a  polite  thank 
you,  but  while  I  am  assiduously  cultivating  your 
friends,  pray  what  disposition  do  you  propose  to 
make  of  my  own?  While  I  am  "revelling  in  the 


354     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN    LETTERS 

halls  "  that  you  have  provided,  what  shall  be  my  shut 
sesame  to  the  doors  that  open  to  me  of  their  own 
accord  ?  I  do  believe  that  nothing  could  satisfy  the 
demand  of  your  benevolence  but  a  regiment  of  deso 
late  people  whom  you  could  furnish  with  home  and 
heaven  (by  immersion).  You  carry  out  your  creed 
into  daily  life  in  the  most  astonishing  manner.  You 
are  not  content  with  sprinkling  people  with  your  benefi 
cences  :  you  plunge  them  in,  dip  them,  submerge 
them,  and  hold  them  under. 

I  went  to  Boston  a  while  ago,  and  had  a  charming 
visit  with  Mrs.  Hawthorne.  We  live  in  hopes  of  the 
capture  of  Vicksburg  and  Port  Hudson,  and  Lee, 
and  all  their  armies,  but  God  speed  the  right,  anyway  ! 
Isn't  it  delightful  to  see  the  Kilkenny  cat-fight  over 
Kiuglake's  work  ?  My  sister  has  been  at  home  and 
passed  a  week  with  a  friend.  It  was  pleasant  all  the 
while  and  we  enjoyed  it  much.  I  took  occasion  to  do 
up  several  "  odd  jobs  "  of  sewing,  for  I  cannot  write 
when  there  is  company  in  the  house.  I  am  promised 
an  English  ivy  from  Kenilworth  Castle  ;  what  do  you 
think  of  that?  I  think  I  shall  start  on  my  travels 
the  last  of  this  month,  or  thereabouts,  but  I  have 
nothing  definite  arranged.  I  am  just  now  galloping 
over  the  pages  of  foolscap  to  be  ready  to  start.  As 
it  is,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  do  all  I  wished  first. 
Strange  how  roads  lengthen  before  you,  don't  they? 
Oh,  if  only  writing  did  not  interpose  between  thought 
and  print,  but  in  that  case  I  suppose  we  should  flood 
the  world  with  balderdash.  As  it  is,  writing  is  a 
kind  of  sieve  ;  to  be  sure,  a  good  deal  of  bran  gets 
through,  but  nothing  to  what  there  is  on  the  upper  side. 
Good-by.  Very  truly  yours, 

M.  A.  D. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  355 

HAMILTON,  MASS.,  July  14,  1863. 
MY  DEAR  MR.  WOOD  :  Four  letters  of  yours  awaited 
my  arrival  home.  On  the  twelfth  of  June  I  went  to 
Boston,  where  I  spent  Saturday,  Sunday,  and  Mon 
day,  —  went  to  the  gymnasium,  shopping,  walked  out 
to  Roxbury,  heard  James  Freeman  Clarke  and  Edward 
Everett  Hale  preach,  chime  bells,  Catholic  church, 
etc.  Tuesday  I  went  to  Cambridge  and  visited  my 
relatives.  Wednesday  my  sister  and  I  went  to  drive 
in  the  beautiful  suburbs  of  Boston,  Dorchester, 
Brookline.  etc.,  and  indeed  I  know  of  no  city  so  set 
in  beauty  and  taste  and  culture  as  Boston.  Money 
seems  to  have  been  directed  by  intelligence  and  art, 
and  1  fancied  a  rebel  cavalry  charging  over  those 
lovely  gardens  and  defacing  the  beauty.  Thursday 
I  went  to  Concord  and  stepped  till  Monday,  visiting 
and  visited  by  the  Hawthornes,  Emersons,  Alcotts, 
Sanborns,  Manns,  etc.,  etc.  Boated,  drove,  walked, 
went  to  the  old  bridge  and  battle-ground,  and  gave 
the  tribute  of  a  sigh  to  the  two  poor  Britons  who  lie 
in  a  foreign  grave,  dead  in  an  unrighteous  cause. 
Monday  I  went  back  to  Boston,  and  out  to  Hillside, 
Roxbury,  to  visit  the  Dexters,  who  have  a  very  charm 
ing  house,  with  the  broadest  view  without,  and  the 
finest  library  within,  of  any  private  house  I  recollect 
to  have  seen.  Tuesday  Mr.  Dexter  went  shopping 
with  me  in  Boston,  and  I  took  a  bookcase  for  litera 
ture,  and  a  clothes  wringer  for  economy,  and  with 
many  a  parcel  aud  package  went  home.  On  Saturday 
came  a  letter  from among  the  mountains,  say 
ing  I  must  go  there,  and  I  started  on  Tuesday, 
reaching  the  Alpine  House,  Gorham,  at  night,  stayed 
there  till  next  morning,  then  went  with  the  Lowells 
to  the  Glen  House,  drove  up  Mt.  Washington,  visited 


356     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

all  the  curiosities,  examined  the  views  at  leisure.  The 
next  morning  we  drove  to  the  Glen  Ellis  Falls,  and 
the  Crystal  Cascade,  looked  at  them  from  different 
points,  in  the  afternoon  back  to  the  Alpine  House,  I 
on  the  top  of  the  coach,  and  we  all  running  a  race 
into,  or  away  from,  a  thunder  shower  which  met  us  a 
few  rods  from  home,  but  too  late  to  do  any  harm. 
Friday  morning  we  took  a  walk  up  what  here  would 
be  quite  a  mountain,  but  there  was  only  a  hill,  and  in 
the  afternoon  were  driven  to  Berlin  Falls,  a  marvel 
lous  work  of  nature,  but  I  remember  that  you  are  not 
much  interest^  d  in  mountain  scenery.  I  think,  how 
ever,  you  could  not  have  helped  being  interested  in 
that.  Saturday  and  Sunday  it  rained  pretty  much 
all  day  with  intervals  of  rest,  and  we  had  opportunity 
to  watch  cloud  shif tings  and  cloud  scenery.  Monday 
we  drove  to  Jefferson,  some  eighteen  miles  and  back, 
dining  at  the  Waumbeck  House,  and  getting  a  broad 
side  view  of  the  whole  range  of  mountains.  In  the 
evening  I  took  another  drive  with  a  friend  to  the  Lead 
Mine  Bridge,  some  nine  miles  out  and  back.  Tuesday 
we  all  went  to  Bethel,  laid  by  through  the  middle-day 
heat,  then  were  driven  to  Paradise  Hill  for  a  distant 
view,  and  after  tea  all  about  Bethel  and  its  valleys  of 
delight,  fording  the  Androscoggin,  and  enjoying  to 
the1  top  of  my  bent.  Wednesday  we  went  up  Spar- 
rovvhawk  mountain,  and  in  the  afternoon  I  was  driven 
in  an  open  buggy  back  to  the  Alpine  House,  about 
twenty-one  miles.  Thursday  morning  I  came  back  as 
far  as  Newburyport,  stopped  one  night  with  Mrs. 
Spalding,  came  home,  stopped  till  noon,  read  my 
letters,  one  from  you,  went  to  Boston  and  Cambridge, 
into  Boston  Saturday  morning,  a  little  shopping  and 
proof-correcting,  and  then  back  again  to  Hamilton. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  357 

So  you  see  I  have  had  a  quite  busy  month.  I  am  now 
laboring  under  an  invitation  to  make  a  voyage  to 
Labrador  by  the  captain  of  the  yacht.  He  takes  a 
party  every  summer;  took  out  Church  when  he  made 
his  iceberg  studies.  Bradford  goes  with  him  this 
year.  If  it  were  not  for  my  numerous  engagements 
I  should  be  delighted  to  go.  Though  I  do  not  quite 
like  to  put  myself  beyond  hearing  of  the  ways  and 
doings  of  my  country.  We  have  Vicksburg,  and 
Lee  checked,  which  is  much  to  be  thankful  for.  Of 
course  the  war  is  by  no  means  over,  but  I  think  people 
are  getting  more  and  more  to  look  to  God  with  grati 
tude.  While  Gettysburg  was  no  decided  victory  to 
us,  it  certainly  was  a  decided  repulse  to  the  rebels. 
So  we  wait  in  hope. 

I  think  you  hear  the  changing  events  of   the  day 
with  a  very  commendable  serenity. 

Very  truly  yours, 

M.  A.  D. 

HAMILTON,  MASS.,  November  24,  1863. 
My  DEAR  MR.  WOOD  :  You  have  rightly  judged 
that  my  time  has  been,  and  still  is,  very  fully  occu 
pied.  Lilly  Gillette  and  my  Nantucket  friend  spent 
nearly  a  week  with  me,  and  I  went  to  Boston  and  saw 
and  heard  the  great  organ.  I  am  very  glad  you  were 
not  there,  because  if  you  had  been,  you  would  just 
have  thrown  away  your  "Future  Life,"  and  said, 
"  We  have  got  there."  That  is,  you  would  have  had 
a  perpetual  monomania  on  the  subject  of  music  after 
wards.  The  organ  noise  —  poetical  term,  is  it  not  ?  — 
was  to  me  the  soul  of  might  and  majesty,  of  crash 
and  storm,  of  the  ripple  of  summer  brooks,  and  the 
softest  notes  of  birds.  Sometimes  it  drowned  you, 


358     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

and  sometimes  it  enchanted  you,  and  withal  it  is  so 
beautiful  that  you  forget  it  is  large  enough  to  put  our 
whole  house  into  it  with  a  third  story  built  up,  and 
plenty  of  leeway  for  a  kitchen  garden.  Charlotte 
Cushman,  who  read  the  ode,  was  the  guest  of  Mr.  F., 
and  I  was  very  glad  to  see  her.  She  is  theatrical, 
that  is,  she  is  unlike  other  women.  She  bears  down 
upon  a  room,  she  does  not  enter  it.  She  hurls  and 
waves  Shakespeare  around  us  as  if  it  were  a  banner 
of  triumph.  I  think  she  is  a  woman  built  on  a  large 
scale.  However  she  may  have  been  when  she  was  a 
baby,  I  can  hardly  conceive  that  she  would  have  been 
otherwise  than  trammelled  in  private  life.  As  it  is, 
I  find  a  peculiar  fitness  in  the  magnificent  distances  of 
her  everyday  paths.  To  spend  the  winters  in  Italy, 
to  take  trips  to  America  as  other  people  take  them  to 
the  White  Mountains,  to  look  upon  the  ocean  as  her 
common  highway,  this  is  appropriate,  her  very  oxygen. 
The  morning  she  went  away  she  gave  to  me,  as  a 
queen  might,  a  very  rich  and  beautiful  scarf.  Be 
pleased  to  know  that  it  was  no  flimsy  raw  silk  non 
sense  such  as  you  see  in  shop  windows,  but  heavy  and 
ribbed,  and  gorgeous  in  color,  such  as  might  well 
come  from  Italian  sunsets,  woven  in  the  looms  of 
Rafaelle's  countrymen. 

The  mail  which  brought  me  your  letter  brought  me 
eight  others,  most  of  them  to  be  answered.  You  may 
fancy  that  I  have  somewhat  to  do  even  to  manage  my 
letters.  I  finally  came  to  such  a  pass  that  I  had  to 
write  my  letters  in  the  evening  after  people  were  gone 
to  bed,  for  when  I  have  company  I  can  really  do 
nothing  of  the  kind,  but  whatever  other  people  can 
do,  it  is  very  certain  I  cannot  write  after  nine  o'clock. 
It  keeps  me  awake  after  I  do  go  to  bed,  and  it  wakes 


BUSY  YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  359 

me  at  three  or  four  in  the  morning,  and  that  I  cannot 
stand. 

Among  other  things  I  have  had  applications  for  all 
sorts  of  services.  One  society  wanted  me  to  lect 
ure  !  on  some  course  or  other.  Several  newspapers 
tempt  me  to  write  for  them  with  the  most  unheard-of 
liberality.  They  are  getting  up  a  new  literary  paper 
in  New  York,  and  one  of  the  proprietors  came  down 
here.  I  gave  him  small  encouragement,  and  after  his 
departure  sent  him  a  decided  negative.  One  or  two 
letters  have  come  about  it,  and  to-day  he  hopes  again 
that  I  will  "not  refuse  our  renewed  overtures,"  and 
they  are  unwilling  to  go  to  their  task  of  establishing 
a  great  weekly  paper  without  my  aid  and  help !  I 
am  sorry.  I  should  like  their  money  (0  temporal 

0  mores/),    but  write    for   them,    I  cannot.      With 
housekeeping,  and  teaching,  and  visiting,  and  com 
pany,  I  have  already  quite  as  much  as  I  can  attend 
to. 

Another  thing  I  have  been  doing  that  takes  much 
time  is  having  my  dress  and  my  mother's  and  my  sister's 
dresses  made.  Mine  is  trimmed  with  beautiful  Malta 
lace,  —  real,  —  and  is  very  fine.  So  is  my  mother's,  so 
is  going  to  be  my  sister's,  and  the  former  has  a  new 
bonnet  besides.  That  article  in  the  "Evening  Post" 
was  written,  I  am  told,  by  a  namesake  of  mine,  who 

1  suppose  branched  off  from  the  family  a  hundred  or 
two  years  ago.     I  went  to  a  concert  in  Salem  one 
evening  and  could  not  tell  the  difference  between  its 
singing  and  that  of  the  finest  opera  singers.     I  went 
there  the  other  night  to  hear  Gough,  and  laughed  away 
ever  so  much  cobwebby    stuff    from    what    brain   I 
have.     lie  is  an  actor,  a  speaker,  —  he  tells  stories  in 
imitably,  —  and  uses  his  face  and  his  coat-tails  unmer- 


360     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIB^E   IN   LETTERS 

cif ully ;  but  for  the  thought  and  the   expression,    I 
have  heard  better. 

MY  DEAR  ALICE  :  By  all  the  laws  of  politeness,  I 
should  have  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  your  collar 
before,  but  the  thorns  and  briers  of  care  and  toil  have 
choked  down  politeness  till  this  time.  Now  I  do  ac 
knowledge  it,  and  I  think  it's  lovely  and  wonderful, 
too.  How  did  you  know  how  to  make  it  ? 

We  are  having  lovely  rain  and  charming  growth  — 
only  the  canker-worms  arc  eating  up  all  the  apples, 
and  the  bugs  help  themselves  to  things  generally.  It 
has  been  a  cold  spring.  I  have  enlarged  the  borders 
of  my  flower-garden,  devoting  all  last  year's  space  to 
roots  and  taking  about  as  large  a  piece  to  seeds.  I 
drove  to  Wenham  the  other  day  and  brought  home 
a  panful  of  pinks  and  pansies,  and  other  named  and 
unnamed  flowers.  Mrs.  H.  gave  me  a  basalt  rose 
bush,  which  already  has  three  buds  on  it,  also  a  prairie 
rose-bush  which  Brown  set  out  by  the  front  door  when 
father  was  back  in  the  field  somewhere.  A  gentleman 
whom  I  met  in  Newburyport  last  summer  sent  me  also 
from  Berkshire  County  a  honeysuckle  root  and  some 
humming-bird  balm.  The  latter  I  put  in  my  garden, 
where  it  flourishes  like  a  green  bay  tree.  The  former  I 
got  Dan  to  stick  down  by  the  piazza  when  father  was 
gone  to  Uncle  Benjamin's.  I  don't  think  he  has  dis 
covered  it  yet.  It  grows  famously.  We  have  five 
tomatoes.  I  built  a  conservatory  for  them,  but  the 
wind  blew  it  over  and  almost  crushed  one  of  the  toma 
toes.  Corn  is  up  half  a  foot,  I  should  think.  Beets, 
squashes,  and  parsnips  heaving  in  sight.  Rhubarb 
climbing  over  the  barrels.  Pear-trees  set  out  last 
year  full  of  buds. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  361 

Uncle  B.  is  very  lame  with  his  long-standing  rheu 
matism  —  owing  chiefly  to  his  long  standing  and  hard 
working  by  laud  and  by  sea,  I  don't  doubt. 

JANUARY  7,   1864. 

I  have  had  a  letter  from  J.  S.  C.  Abbott — wants 
me  to  write  a  chapter  for  his  forthcoming  second  vol 
ume  of  "  History  of  the  War  "  —  on  the  Emancipation 
movement  —  to  be  incorporated  into  his  book.  Di 
rected  to  Abigail  Dodge,  so  I  shall  not  answer  it. 
Also  had  a  magnificent  letter  from  a  captain  in  the 
7th  Ohio  —  from  Chickamauga  —  given  to  a  wounded 
comrade  who  was  going  home  for  safe  carriage.  He 
says  :  "  I  do  not  know  whether  authors  care  whether 
people  love  them  for  what  they  write  or  not.  I  do  not 
think  on  the  whole  that  men  do,  but  you  are  a  woman 
and  1  trust  will  listen  patiently  while  I,  with  cap  in 
hand,  speak  a  word  for  myself  and  the  brave  boys 
who  call  me  '  Captain.'  You  can  never  realize  what 
strength  we  have  found  in  your  strong,  womanly 
pages  through  these  more  than  two  long  years.  They 
have  been  the  gleam  of  sunshine  on  many  a  lonely 
picket  post,  and  beneath  the  murky  sky  of  many  a 
battle-field.  Did  you  think  as  you  read  of  the  charge 
along  the  crest  of  Lookout  Mountain  that  some  of 
your  words  went  in  our  hearts  up  the  craggy  slope  to 
that  '  Battle  in  the  Clouds '  ?  Did  you  know  that  the 
van  of  '  Iron  Hooker's '  bayonets  wore  a  fiercer, 
sturdier  gleam  for  what  you  had  written?  You  did 
not  know  what  friends  you  were  losing  as  that  shat 
tered,  struggling  liue  toiled  up  to  that  pestilent  summit. 
When  you  read  of  other  volleys  and  other  charges 
sweeping  down  still  more  of  the  remaining  handful  of 
the  7th  Ohio,  please  remember  that  you  lost  friends 


362     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

in  the  carnage  of  that  hour,  who,  though  they  knew 
you  not,  were  content  to  stand  at  a  distance  and 
cherish  your  name.  Pardon  this  freedom,  but  deign 
to  accept  this  trifle  from  the  grateful  hearts  of  the  7th 
Ohio."  Also  a  letter  from  some  unknown  man  in 
R.I.,  who  says  he  wanted  to  say  how  much  he  liked 
"My  book."  'vlt  is  so  cheerful  on  the  surface  and 
so  serious  in  the  depths,  so  replete  with  outward  con 
fidence  and  inward  diffidence,  so  defiant  in  word  and 
so  supplicatory  at  heart,  in  short  so  altogether  wom 
anly,  as  to  attract  one's  best  angels  to  him  as  he  reads, 
and  make  him  feel  a  sense  of  something  astir  in  you 
better  and  deeper  even  than  genius."  It  is  from  a 
"tedious  old  man,"  as  he  calls  himself;  does  not  ex 
pect  me  to  read  it  now,  but  lay  it  aside  for  ten  or 
twenty  years  hence.  It  is  three  sheets  full  of  warn 
ing,  advice,  love,  and  consolation,  and  one  of  the 
nicest  letters  I  have  had,  besides  being  very  able,  but 
he  gives  no  name. 

A  new  story  told  me  the  first  time  to-night.  A  Mr. 
Whitney  happened  to  be  in  Havana,  and  at  a  hotel 
heard  some  American  talking  about  G.  H.,  one  of  them 
owning  the  book  and  having  lent  it  around.  They 
were  quite  full  of  enthusiasm  —  one  old  lady  in  par 
ticular,  who  thought  it  was  very  much  to  a  young  gen 
tleman's  credit  that  he  should  own  such  a  book,  and 
then  they  fell  to  discussing  the  author,  who,  it  seems, 
was  a  young  lady  in  New  Hampshire.  After  it  was 
well  settled,  "Whitney  from  Salem  told  them  who  it 
was,  and  that  he  knew  the  author's  friends  and  so  was 
authority,  etc.,  etc.  I  proceed  now  to  cap  the  climax 
and  leave  the  subject.  The  Backside  sewing  society, 
nobly  emulous  of  Over-the-River's  literary  resources, 
have  procured  a  library.  It  is  somewhat  limited  at 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  363 

present,  but  quality  atones  for  quantity.  Its  present 
list  numbers  two  books  —  "Country  Living  and 
Thinking,"  "Memoirs  of  Daniel  Safford."  You  see 
they  go  on  the  correct  principle  of  fostering  native 
talent.  Mother  was  a  little  startled  last  night  to  find 
that  she  had  turned  the  whole  dipperful  of  gravy  into 
the  teapot,  but  it  doesn't  make  much  difference  if  you 
only  think  so.  Good  night.  My  energies  just  now 
are  largely  devoted  to  purloining  pork  for  the  cats,  in 
which  I  have  been  so  successful  that  the  elder  had  a 
very  bad  fit  of  indigestion  this  afternoon  and  lost 
her  supper. 

[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

JANUARY,  1864. 

You  challenge  me  on  the  subject  of  Sundays,  so  I 
will  lay  down  my  platform.  If  soldiers  were  freezing 
I  would  knit  stockings  for  them  on  Sunday  evening, 
while  the  frost  lasted,  no  longer.  I  would  not  make 
a  practice  of  it.  At  the  same  time,  I  don't  say  it  is 
wicked  for  other  people  to  do  it.  Christ  overturned 
the  Jewish  Sabbath,  and  as  far  as  I  can  see  left  the 
Christian  Sabbath  to  every  one's  conscience,  guided 
by  indirect  lights.  For  me,  I  have  not  the  smallest 
difficulty  in  disposing  of  my  "long  Sabbaths."  My 
only  trouble  is  that  they  are  not  long  enough.  I  go 
to  church  in  the  morning  and  have  a  Sunday-school 
class  afterwards,  and  the  rest  of  the  day  is  my  own, 
and  I  crush  all  the  juices  out  of  it,  the  afternoon  and 
the  sunset  and  the  evening,  the  perfect  rest  and  quiet. 
It  is  intense  delight.  I  am  alone,  with  nothing  to  do, 
and  I  revel  in  it.  Do  you  know,  I  do  not  need  happi 
ness  to  be  happy,  but  only  that  one  should  stand  out 
of  my  sunshine?  If  I  am  just  not  fretted,  I  can  man- 


364     CiAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

age  the  rest.  But  you  talk  of  calls  and  letters.  What, 
then,  is  the  good  of  your  Sunday  ?  Why  is  it  not  just 
like  any  other  day  ?  On  Sunday  I  want  peace  to  flow 
in  like  a  river  with  no  counter-currents  and  not  even 
the  cleft  of  a  keel.  I  wish  every  day  were  longer, 
but  Sunday  most  of  all.  I  wish  we  could  have  sum 
mer  days  crowned  with  winter  nights.  Night  is  the 
only  tolerable  part  of  the  winter.  If  I  were  rich  I 
would  create  winter  evenings  —  a  room  hung  with 

O  O 

purple  draperies,  heavy  and  rich,  and  sweeping  the 
floor,  falling  in  lines  and  broken  curves,  and  filling 
the  air  with  dusk}'  shadows,  and  the  red  sunset  should 
come  in  and  meet  the  red  fire-glow,  and  when  the  sun 
set  deepened  into  twilight  there  should  be  none  of 
your  flickering,  glaring  gaslight,  always  exploding  or 
leaking,  or  something,  but  a  golden  globe  like  the  sun 
shaded  into  soft  tints  that  touch  everything  with  a 
glow  shining  upon  nothing,  but  making  all  things 
seem  self-luminous,  smothering  a  hidden  flame.  Shall 
I  go  on  ?  I  hope  you  are  reading  this  in  open  court, 
that  all  things  may  be  in  harmony.  But  don't  think 
I  am  latitudinarian  in  respect  of  Sunday.  I  am  not. 
I  only  think  we  are  to  go  according  to  the  New  Tes 
tament,  and  not  according  to  the  old.  How  much 
there  is  to  say  about  everything,  isn't  there?  And 
after  you  have  said  it  all,  —  which  I  never  did  !  —  how 
fragmentary  is  the  view,  and  how  you  have  left  out 
all  the  important  parts  and  sprawled  over  the  trivial ! 
You  means  me  in  this  case.  I  wonder  if  sprawled  is 
an  admissible  word.  If  it  is  not,  it  ought  to  be. 
Anyway,  it  is  in  Why  do  you  speak  of  Lowell's 
Johnsoniivu  English?  What  was  language  given  for 
but  to  conceal  ideas?  Your  "  bushel  of  words"  is  a 
necessary  part  of  the  mind's  furniture  before  it  can 


BUSY   YEARS  IX   HAMILTON  365 

set  up  housekeeping.  Did  Eve  never  eat  the  apple 
that  people  can  see  ideas  god-like  erect  in  native 
honor  clad  and  not  be  ashamed?  Of  "  Sir  Launfal  " 
I  have  but  a  hazy  memory,  but  do  you  not  find  there 
"a  day  in  June,  ....  then  heaven  tries  the  earth, 
if  it  be  in  tune,"  etc.?  I  have  a  vogue  memory  of  a 
dancing,  lilting  measure.  "  Lilting"  is  Harriet  Pres- 
cott's  word.  But  I  saw  it  and  liked  it,  and  —  took  it. 

If  you  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  you  don't 
know  what  you  think  of  me  you  have  reached  the 
goal,  and  I  do  not  see  anything  to  prevent  us  from 
living  happily  ever  after.  Not  that  I  am  harder  to 
understand  than  others,  or  that  you  are  slower  at 
understanding,  but  every  human  being  is  individual, 
and  the  first  step  towards  an  interpretation,  or  even  a 
peaceful  position,  is  a  recognition  of  this  fact.  It  is 
a  terrible  fact.  It  often  appalls  me.  It  seems  to  me 
dreadful  to  live  in  solitude  and  die  unknown,  to  touch 
your  kind  only  as  a  water-drop  touches  the  hot  iron 
on  which  it  rolls  about,  with  perpetual  intervention. 
The  consolation  is,  apart  from  the  fact  that  God 
pierces  through  and  comprehends  all,  that  there  may 
be  those  who  know  you  through  their  imagination, 
their  magnetism.  They  recognize  you  not  by  sight, 
but  touch,  as  the  needle  turns  to  the  pole  it  will 
never  see,  by  some  mysterious  current  which  it  obeys 
unconsciously.  I  mean  something,  but  I  am  not  sure 
I  have  dug  it  out  and  brought  it  to  the  surface,  and 
in  letters  you  are  not  bound  to  be  lucid. 

I  read  your  discourse  upon  "  Charitableness  and 
Charity,"  with  illustrations  drawn  from  life,  with 
becoming  meekness,  but  disdain  your  imputations  of 
a  lack  of  the  former.  I  am  willing  to  attribute  to 
myself  all  manner  of  deficiencies  in  a  general  way, 


366     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

but  when  you  come  down  to  concrete  things,  you  will 
find  that  I  shall  predicate  of  myself  every  virtue. 
But,  seriously,  I  do  not  think  you  would  find  me 
uncharitable.  I  do  not  know  that  there  are  not  a 
certain  class  of  qualities  for  which  can  be  found  no 
forgiveness,  but  I  have  too  much  need  of  forbearance 
myself  to  be  chary  of  it  towards  others.  Moreover, 
I  know  that  there  are  so  many  circumstances  which 
bear  upon  every  deed,  and  which  are  entirely  elusive, 
that  I  am  loth  to  judge  unkindly  ;  at  least  I  think  so, 
but  maybe  I  am  wrong,  for  our  ignorance  of  others  is 
only  equalled  by  ignorance  of  ourselves.  It  is  not 
quite  true  that  I  think  of  you  only  externally ;  though 
it  is  true  that  that  is  all  I  know,  but  not  all  of  which 
I  thought.  It  was  just  because  I  did  not  know  "  what 
I  should  get  in  exchange  "  that  I  was  shy  of  making 
the  experiment.  And  it  is  this  hidden  part  alone  that 
gives  one  a  firm  footing  or  a  treacherous  Chat-Moss. 
But  do  not  frighten  me  or  attempt  it.  I  am  rather 
apt  to  take  things  literally,  and  I  believe  I  have  much 
faith  in  you.  If  I  may  not  have,  then  I  care  for  you 
not  at  all.  It  is  weak  to  look  for  perfection,  but  it  is 
wise  and  it  alone  is  wise  to  look  for  aspiration, 
though  that  sounds  sentimental.  Nevertheless,  that 
which  may  perhaps  be  sometimes  and  by  certain  peo 
ple  called  sentimental,  is  the  best.  A  man  may  and 
must  be  dust-covered  in  the  work-ways  of  his  life, 
but  if  he  has  not  a  love  of  cleanliness,  and  an  under 
lying  purity,  he  is  unworthy.  Behind  all  the  tangled 
undergrowth  of  the  woods  must  be  no  morass,  but  a 
little  lake  smiling  in  the  sunshine.  I  do  not  care  how 
elegant,  or  how  learned,  or  how  pious,  man  or  woman 
may  be,  if  you  cannot  be  sure  that  when  you  strike 
down  you  will  come  to  clear  water,  that  however 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  367 

remote  the  metal  may  be,  when  you  do  smite,  it  rings 
back  to  you,  clear  sound  for  clear  sound  —  there  is 
nothing.  If  this  exists,  one  can  forgive  much. 

Seeing  the  "  chambered  nautilus"  is  tossing  around 
the  ocean,  can  he  harden  his  shell  too  much?  Think 
what  a  bruised  appearance  he  would  make  if  he 
became  soft  as  putty  and  were  flatted  and  dented  at 
every  collision  !  To  be  sure,  he  runs  a  greater  risk  of 
being  broken,  but  it  is  better  to  be  broken  than  to  be 
beaten  out  of  shape.  I  like  your  house  nestled  in  its 
"sunny  spot  of  greenery,"  but  you  live  in  a  settled 
country  where  the  law  gives  protection  to  life  and 
property.  If  you  were  in  a  wild  district  where  gueril 
las  and  mad  huntsmen  rave,  you  might  find  your 
account  in  building,  after  old  Jewish  fashions,  brown, 
battered,  dingy  old  houses,  stricken  with  poverty  and 
desolation ;  but,  climbing  up  through  the  crazy  stair 
case  and  passing  through  bare  halls,  you,  being  a 
friend,  are  admitted  to  the  inner  room  where  dia 
monds  are  heaped,  and  marble  fountains  gurgle  rose- 
water,  and  the  air  vibrates  with  celestial  harmonies. 

I  am  afraid  from  what  I  said  a  while  ago,  you  may 
think  I  set  up  a  higher  standard  than  other  people.  I 
do  not.  I  do  not  suppose  there  is  a  fault  or  a  weak 
ness  anywhere  about  in  which  I  do  not  share,  but  as 
that  queen  of  women,  Mrs.  Browning,  says,  I  "  seek 
to  love  high  though  I  live  thus  low,"  and  I  do  not 
wish  to  have  anything  to  do  with  people  who  do  not 
love  high  and  try  to  live  high  too. 

JANUARY  30,   1864. 

What  a  wonderful  thing  is  the  imagination !  All 
this  lovely  soft  weather  we  have  been  having  was  as 
sweet  as  spring,  but  it  gave  me  no  spring  sweetness. 


368     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN    LETTERS 

So  like  the  spring,  it  was  yet  entirely  unlike  it. 
Spring  always  seems  to  open  heaven  to  me.  It  hints 
all  manner  of  hidden  depths  and  half-revealed  possi 
bilities,  and  ue\v  creations.  It  is  vague,  and  dreamy, 
and  eternal.  Nothing  in  the  fulness  of  summer, 
though  I  love  summer,  so  speaks  of  immortality  and 
the  highest  happiness  as  the  tenderness  of  the  early 
spring —  beauty  budding  from  grayuess  and  roughness, 
just  as  delicate  as  the  sky.  But  under  all  this  wintry 
warmth  lay  the  feeling  of  winter  and  not  of  warmth 
I  do  not  mind  a  cold  day  in  March  or  April,  but  a 
May-day  in  January  will  not,  I  know,  bring  may- 
flowers.  Nevertheless,  I  love  it  too  and  wish  I  lived 
in  the  —  Bermudas  —  is  it  ?  where  they  have  perpetual 
spring.  And  now  it  is  cold  and  a  snow-storm,  and 
spring  is  indefinitely  postponed. 

I  always  find  it  easy  to  believe  agreeable  things. 
When  people  say  they  like  me,  it  seems  so  natural 
that  they  should  like  me  that  I  have  not  the  smallest 
hesitation  in  giving  them  full  credence.  If  they  say 
they  do  not  like  me  I  always  think  it  is  prejudice,  or 
they  do  not  know  me,  or  something.  It  is  an  agree 
able  frame  of  mind  to  be  in,  is  it  not  ? 

Call  together  your  surveyors  and  lay  out  twenty 
roads,  if  you  will,  according  to  the  truest  mathe 
matical  principles,  but  on  a  warm  June  morning  you 
will  take  a  short  cut  across  lots,  and  despise  them  all. 
It  is  better  to  brush  the  dew  from  the  clover,  and  find 
the  ground-sparrows'  nest,  and  hear  the  rustling  of 
the  corn,  than  to  walk  in  the  Appiau  way.  Speaking 
of  the  Appian  way  as  a  road,  you  know,  not  as  a  ro 
mance.  So  don't  just  go  and  make  up  your  mind  that 
you  will  not  like  me,  because,  when  you  are  fairly 
and  firmly  settled  in  that  conclusion,  I  shall  start  up 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  369 

all  of  a  sudden,  and  you  will  find  it  like  one  of 
Thackeray's,  or  somebody's,  closing  chapters,  "  The 
Conclusion,  in  which  nothing  is  concluded."  Never 
theless,  there  is  a  beauty  in  the  law.  Among  all  the 
mischief  with,  which  Satan  supplied  my  idle  hands,  I 
once  read  a  law-book  —  Warren's  something  —  and  I 
blush  to  acknowledge  I  found  it  very  interesting.  It 
seemed  to  me  as  if  the  theory  of  the  law  was  almost 
an  exact  science.  But  practice  of  the  law  for  all  man 
ner  of  rogues  is  a  very  different  thing.  I  read 
"  Charles  Auchester  "  two  days  ago,  and  that  made  me 
extremely  dissatisfied  and  uncomfortable.  I  could 
not  abide  the  thought  of  corning  down  from  the 
musical  heavens  and  go  to  blasting  rocks  again.  But 
when  you  think  of  it,  blasting  rocks  is  very  good 
work.  The  fragments  may  become  polished  stones  in 
the  temple  of  beauty,  find  the  earth  that  was  rocky 
and  sterile  may  be  smoothed  and  wave  in  many  a 
wheat  field,  or  smile  with  flowers  and  nourish  bird  and 
bee.  The  bees  will  not  thank  me  for  their  honey,  nor 
the  flowers  for  their  fragrance,  but  by  so  much  the 
world  will  be  the  richer.  Not  that  I  am  impelled  by 
so  abstract  a  motive.  On  the  contrary,  I  blast  rocks 
because  I  have  a  natural  tendency  to  gunpowder,  and 
for  so  many  shillings  a  day,  still  the  benificence  of 
the  thing  does  not  make  the  work  less  welcome.  And 
last  night  I  was  really  glad  not  to  be  happy.  There 
is  so  much  suffering  in  the  world  that  you  cannot  help 
that  it  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  pleasure  to  suffer  with 
them.  I  should  be  afraid  to  be  happy.  I  don't  mean 
happy  exactly,  either,  for  I  am  happy  as  far  as  that 
goes,  but  I  mean  satisfied,  and  that  I  am  indeed  not. 
There  are  ever  and  ever  so  many  things  to  enjoy,  but 
to  be  satisfied  is  another  tiling.  The  happiest  thing  of 


370     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

all  is  that  we  are  so  inwardly  self-sufficient.  I  sup 
pose  it  is  the  dissimilarity  between  the  outward  and 
inward  world  that  makes  friction,  but  it  would  be  a 
bane  and  no  blessing  to  have  the  friction  removed  by 
bringing  the  inner  down  to  the  level  of  the  outer.  If 
you  were  a  mere  lawyer  and  had  no  higher  ambition 
than  to  gain  cases,  you  might  be  a  more  contented 
man  but  not  happier.  I  think  it  is  only  the  surplusage 
of  people  that  I  care  for.*  People  who  are  just  ade 
quate  to  their  circumstances,  just  worth  their  weight 
in  bread  and  butter,  are  very  comfortable,  and  often 
agreeable  and  convenient  for  especial  occasions,  but 
you  would  never  dream  of  writing  them  letters, 
though  you  may  send  them  regularly  printed  bulletins. 
But  nobody  and  nothing,  not  even  courts  and  blasting 
rocks,  can  take  you  away  from  yourself.  It  is  all 
noise  and  dust  and  confusion,  but  you  have  only  to 
walk  home  and  the  sunset  opens  to  let  you  in,  and  to 
all  things  unlovely  and  angular  you  may  say,  Shut, 
Sesame  !  You  are  monarch  of  all  }-ou  survey,  and  all 
the  things  your  life  has  missed,  and  all  it  has  ever 
lost,  come  to  you.  Dreams  are  facts,  and  possibili 
ties  are  every-day  life,  and  every-day  life  is  the  King 
dom  of  God,  which  is  a  Bible  truth,  because  the  Bible 
says  it  is  within  you.  Now  do  you  not  see  it  is  of  no 
consequence  to  be  rich?  — because  no  money  can  buy 
you  a  farm  in  the  Delectable  Laud,  and  for  all  your 
agricultural  tastes,  real  estate  is  of  more  value  there 
than  anywhere  else,  though  I  don't  object  to  farming 
if  one  has  plenty  of  money.  There,  you  see,  is  where 
money  is  necessary. 

I  have  a  word  or  two  to  say  regarding  Longfellow- 
islmess.  Did  you  ever  know  two  sweeter  poems  than 
"  The  Children's  Hour,"  and  "  Weariness  "  ?  Now 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  371 

when  you  say  sweeping  bad  things,  put  in  the  twinkl 
ing  good  things  too,  and  L.  is  surely  a  musical  poet. 
He  sings  well,  and  he  is  a  good  man.  And  do  not 
swear  about  Kenan.  There  is  not  half  so  much 
blasphemy  in  him  as  there  is  in  some  of  our  good 
D.D.'s  —  and  I  am  Orthodox  and  can  say  that.  By 
the  way,  did  you  observe  the  different  tone  assumed 
by  the  "  N.  A.  Review"  towards  Renan  and  Alger 
on  the  one  side,  and  Gillett  on  the  other?  Reuan  and 
A.  were  tenderly  admonished,  and  poor  Gillett  was 
vigorously  demolished.  I  think  I  am  not  sectarian, — 
if  I  am,  I  do  not  know  concerning  which  sect,  —  but, 
I  despise  the  bigotry  that  can  consort  with  an  educa 
tion  sufficient  to  edit  the  "  N.  A.  Review,"  and  smile 
at  the  wildest  errors  of  its  own  sect,  while  it  squints 
fearfully  at  the  slips  of  another. 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

FEBRUARY  9,   1864. 

I  see  that  I  am  to  be  handed  down  to  immortality 
in  the  guise  of  reading-books.  I  am  incorporated 
into  a  series  of  some  sort  of  practical  readers,  but  of 
what  selection  is  made  I  am  ignorant.  Don't  laugh 
at  my  Stumbling  Blocks  and  don't  expect  me  to  give 
up  my  iconoclasm  because  the  world  persists  in  bow 
ing  down  to  false  gods,  and  don't  lose  faith,  though 
my  mother  —  since  hearing  of  your  dissipation  at 
parties  —  thinks  you  have  not  much  faith  to  lose  ! 

My  father  has  been  long  ill,  and  my  hands  are 
quite  full.  My  brothers  and  their  wives,  one  or  more, 
are  here  nearly  all  the  time.  My  mother  and  I  are 
alone  with  him  to-night.  Though  I  have  not  the 
quiet  and  leisure  to  write  letters,  I  can  very  easily 


372     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTP:ilS 

manage  to  read  them,  so  pi  ay  do  your  port  towards 
benefiting  the  world,  by  constituting  yourself  a  private 
Christian  Commission  and  furnishing  the  Hamilton 
hospital  with  suitable  reading.  Nothing  but  original 
matter  is  needed. 

[To  MR.  FRENCH.] 

FEBRUARY  10. 

I  like  to  write  letters.  I  believe  it  is  a  weakness 
and  I  unfortunately  have  all  the  foibles  of  my  own 
sex,  and  all  the  faults  of  yours,  but  still  I  like  to 
write  letters  and  especially  I  like  to  write  where  there 
is  a  little  unexplored  ground.  There  is  no  particular 
exhilaration  in  walking  down  and  up  and  up  and 
down  the  same  gravel  path,  though  it  may  be  tamely 
pleasant  if  it  is  not  also  a  covered  way,  and  even 
then  there  is  a  degree  of  enjoyment  in  the  mere 
motion,  but  it  is  a  great  deal  nicer  to  go  down  a  lane 
where  you  have  never  been  and  know  not  whence  it 
came  nor  whither  it  leads,  but  only  know  you  struck 
into  it  all  of  a  sudden,  and  will  perhaps  strike  out 
again  just  as  suddenly  —  but  meanwhile  the  apple 
trees  are  all  abloom,  and  the  gray  walls  green  and 
graceful  with  swaying  vines  and  vocal  with  tiny  life. 
I  am  not  deceived  for  all  the  blue  sky  and  splendid 
sun.  I  know  there  are  snow-banks  underneath,  but 
I  know  something  more  than  this  which  makes  me 
happy,  that  violets  and  anemones  and  blood-root  and 
spring-beauties  are  under  the  snow.  You  are  mis 
sionary  ground  and  you  must  be  converted.  What, 
are  you  better  than  the  Emperor  Aurelius?  You 
talk  of  the  past  as  if  it  held  the  elixir  of  life,  and 
of  the  future  as  if  it  had  no  certain  treasure  in  its 
bosom.  For  me,  I  am  not  sure  of  the  past,  but  if 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  373 

there  is  any  present  I  am  sure  of  the  future.  Life 
is  not  made  up  of  this  spring,  or  next  summer,  or 
last  winter.  Life  is  one.  Next  spring  is  only  a 
lifting  up  of  the  fair  and  fragrant  spring  that  under 
lies  all  life,  lifting  itself  up  above  the  snows  and  frosts 
which  have  overgrown  it  but  can  never  crush  it,  and 
will  finally  die  away  in  the  sunshine  that  never  dies. 
Winter  is  not  "  just  as  good,"  and  never  will  be, 
and  you  know  it.  Even  if  you  are  shut  up  in  a  city, 
the  very  knowledge  that  the  "  birds  are  singing  else 
where  "  is  an  unspeakable  blessing.  It  is  not  the 
music  that  you  hear,  but  the  songs  that  sing  them 
selves  in  your  heart  that  make  the  melody  of  life. 
When  I  am  ready  to  fly  out  with  impatience  of  the 
clang  of  tin  pans  and  iron  kettles  it  is  just  those 
otherwhere  singing-birds  that  make  it  all  tolerable, 
for  I  know  that  somewhere,  somewhere,  there  must  be 
a  land  where  pans  and  kettles  are  unknown,  and  the 
robins  have  it  all  their  own  way,  and  there  I  mean 
one  day  to  pitch  my  tent.  I  shall  feel  just  so  at 
fifty.  What  difference  will  it  make?  It  is  not  an 
other  but  only  the  fiftieth  part  of  the  same  spring. 
If  God  only  gives  me  health  and  independence  there 
never  will,  I  think  there  never  can  come  a  time  when 
I  shall  not  grow  green  and  tender  and  fresh  and 
happy  with  the  leaves  !  Memories  are  nothing.  That 
which  has  been  is  nothing  to  that  which  shall  be. 
One  of  the  few  things  I  don't  know,  and  cannot 
understand  is,  why  evil  is  let  run  wild  in  the  world. 
I  can  understand  why  it  should  be  let  in,  but  not  why 
it  should  be  let  loose. 

I  want  you  to  feel  confident  of  the  future.  Don't 
suppose  that  I  don't  think  you  are  a  good  Christian, 
but  I  want  you  to  feel  that  the  one  thing  real  is  not 


374     GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

the  past,  but  the  future.  Do  not  tell  me  that  is  a 
matter  of  years.  I  am  old  enough  to  have  had  every 
experience  under  the  sun,  and  I  have  had  most  of  them, 
and  what  I  have  not  felt  in  myself  I  have  felt  in 
others,  so  it  is  all  the  same.  One  way  or  another  I 
rather  think  I  have  felt  pretty  much  all  there  is  to  feel, 
and  though  Orion  and  the  Pleiades  shine  brightly  in 
the  past,  they  will  pale  their  ineffectual  fires  before 
the  splendors  of  the  far  future.  The  Delectable  Land 
is  not  indefinite.  It  is  my  home.  It  is  there  only 
that  I  shall  be  really  myself.  What  am  I  here? 
Hair  and  hands  and  circumstance,  a  merino  dress  and 
a  broom  and  a  frying-pan,  which  things  I  hate,  and  a 
small  residuum  of  me.  And  you  ask  me  Avhat  I  shall 
care  for  iu  the  spirit-land !  Ask  me  what  I  care  for 
here  !  There  I  shall  have  all  beautiful  things  and  I 
shall  be  beautiful.  No  conceptions  can  equal  the  glory 
that  shall  be.  Music  and  poetry  and  painting  help 
us,  I  suppose,  to  lay  hold  on  the  skirts  of  that  glory, 
but  it  is  only  the  fringe  of  the  garment  that  we  grasp. 
Why,  this  life  is  beautiful  only  so  far  as  it  is  trans 
parent  and  lets  the  other  life  shine  through.  Think 
of  going  into  a  world  where  the  brooms  and  the 
dusters  and  the  court-room  crowds  fall  off  from  you, 
and  nothing  is  left  but  that  which  is  truly  your  ownest 
self.  I  don't  want  any  new  senses  in  Heaven,  that 
is,  I  shall  not  clamor  for  them.  I  am  contented  with 
those  I  have.  I  can  get  all  the  pleasure  I  want 
through  them,  of  that  kind.  In  fact,  if  two  or  three 
things  could  be  altered  I  think  this  world  would  make 
a  very  good  Heaven  as  it  is,  but  because  the  two  or 
three  things  cannot  be  altered  my  principle  is  just  do 
what  has  to  be  done  here,  and  in  the  next  world  we 
shall  perhaps  be  a  step  or  two  higher.  If  you  are 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  375 

good  and  I  am  good,  perhaps  on  some  "  Heaven- 
kissiug  hill"  we  shall  talk  this  matter  over  and  you 
will  see  how  wrong  and  Pagan  you  are,  and  how  right 
and  Christian  I  —  and  because  you  will  then  be  good 
and  have  lost  all  your  pride  and  vain-glory  you  will 
not  mind  admitting  your  error,  and  because  I  shall 
then  be  myself  because  the  little  speck  of  me,  which 
is  all  I  care  for  here,  will  have  expanded  there  and 
become  everything  that  is  me,  I  shall  not  have  the 
smallest  difficulty  in  expressing  my  opinions  and  shall 
talk  you  blind  the  first  evening,  for  I  fancy  it  will  be 
always  sunset  there.  We  shall  be  at  work  in  the 
morning,  but  shall  have  glorious  evenings,  and  we 
shall  be  so  good  ourselves  that  the  sunsets  will  not 
reproach  us.  Think  of  yourself  with  every  wicked 
wish  and  passion  and  purpose  melted  away,  and 
nothing  left  but  pure  gold.  I  am  so  accustomed  to 
be  alone  that  I  am  always  entertaining  company  to 
myself,  and  if  you  should  not  care  to  take  a  walk  with 
me  I  shoukl  be  quite  happy  to  take  the  walk  by  my 
self,  and  instead  of  talking  to  you  I  should  talk  with 
the  brooks  and  the  birds,  who  are  never  tired,  or  at 
least  have  no  tongues  to  say  so,  which  is  just  as  well. 
At  the  same  time  there  are  advantages  in  a  human 
companion  sometimes,  and  I  consider  it  very  kind  and 
courteous  in  you  to  let  me  write  to  you,  only  I  do  not 
wish  to  go  too  far  and  turn  an  act  of  courtesy  and  of 
pleasure  into  an  act  of  forbearance.  Rude  behavior, 
rudeness  of  manners,  moral  rudeness,  I  abhor  with 
my  whole  soul  as  the  next  thing  to  sin  and  sometimes 
sin  itself.  I  want  every  good  and  happy  thing  to 
come  to  this  country  and  build  it  up  in  the  nurture 
and  admonition  of  the  Lord.  You  always  seem  to 
say  easily  everything  you  have  to  say  —  which  must 


376     OAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

be  very  charming  —  and  yet  very  likely  may  be  only 
your  style,  and  you  do  not  mind  the  bits  you  give  for 
the  ingots  of  gold  that  it  pains  you  to  be  forced  to 
leave  behind. 

FEBRUARY  16. 

I  can  see  very  well  that  you  are  laughing  at  me, 
which  is  very  just,  for  I  can  easily  believe  I  wrote 
what  deserved  to  be  laughed  at,  at  least  if  I  did  under 
take  to  give  a  definite  idea  of  Heaven.  In  fact,  the 
fault  I  find  with  all  the  books  I  ever  read  on  that  sub 
ject  is  that  they  are  definite,  when  I  think  it  should 
be  left  to  revelation  and  imagination.  I  do  not  call 
you  a  Pagan  because  you  cannot  see  what  is  invisible, 
but  because  not  seeing  you  will  not  believe,  and  so 
will  not  be  blessed.  You  lack  faith,  which  is  the 
evidence  of  things  not  seen.  I  know  no  more  than 
you  what  lies  in  store  for  us  in  the  future,  but  when 
God  declares  that  it  is  something  so  beautiful,  so 
glorious,  as  never  to  have  entered  into  the  heart  of 
man,  I  take  Him  at  His  word.  What  do  I  do  then? 
I  conceive  the  very  highest  that  I  can  and  rest  on 
that.  I  cannot  think  what  Heaven  is,  but  I  can  take 
out  of  the  earth  everything  that  loveth  and  maketh  a 
lie,  everything  that  defiles,  everything  that  is  dis 
agreeable.  I  paint  it  in  all  the  colors  of  the  sunset, 
and  breathe  upon  it  the  fragrance  of  the  summer,  and 
people  it  with  all  the  great  and  good  and  wise  and 
witty  and  charming  people  —  people  who  never  mis 
understand  you  and  are  not  selfish  and  —  that  is  not 
Heaven  —  no  —  when  I  enter  Heaven  if  through  God's 
goodness  I  do  enter  it,  I  shall  be  disappointed,  but  it 
will  be  because  Heaven  is  so  much  more  grand  and 
delightful  than  the  poor  little  weak  notions  I  had 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  377 

formed  of  it  on  earth.  I  do  not  believe  God  holds 
out  to  us  hopes  which  he  never  intends  to  fulfil,  and 
so  I  make  the  most  of  every  pleasure  here,  but  with 
the  happy  feeling  underneath  that  the  pleasure  is  only 
a  faint  foretaste  of  the  joys  that  shall  be.  Not  a 
lily-of-the-valley,  not  a  bird  upon  the  tree,  not  the 
ripple  of  a  brook  but  has  somewhat  to  say  of  Heaven. 
You  say  that  we  shall  neither  marry  nor  be  given  in 
marriage.  So  Christ  said,  but  He  added  that  we 
should  be  as  the  angels  in  Heaven,  and  that  I  have  no 
doubt  is  something  infinitely  better.  What  is  marriage 
here?  A  little  speck  of  honey  in  a  hogshead  of 
vinegar.  But  in  Heaven  there  will  be  something  of 
which  earth-marriage  is  a  type,  but  which  will  be  all 
honey  and  no  vinegar.  You  may  depend  upon  it 
there  is  something  in  Heaven  which  corresponds  to 
marriage  because  that  which  alone  gives  marriage 
vitality  and  worth,  that  alone  which  lifts  it  above  the 
earth  is  a  need,  an  element  of  the  soul,  and  if  the  soul 
dies  not,  its  elements  cannot  die.  You  would  not  be 
yourself  without  your  memory.  You  do  not  marry 
on  account  of  your  memory,  but  that  thing  which  you 
do  marry  on  account  of  is  as  essential  to  your  identity 
as  your  memory.  If  there  is  one  thing  I  cannot  abide 
it  is  settling  down  into  anything.  Do  you  know  the 
great  trouble  is  that  people  "marry  and  settle." 
They  would  better  be  hung.  "  Settle  "  is  just  another 
word  for  growing  set  and  crusty  and  routincy.  When 
you  have  levelled  one  forest  turn  to  fresh  woods  and 
pastures  new.  Cultivate  the  soil  till  you  have  ex 
hausted  its  possibilities.  I  do  not  believe  in  exhaust 
ing  them  anyway.  We  often  think  we  have  when  we 
have  not.  It  is  our  own  slight  farming,  not  the  field, 
that  is  exhausted,  and  we  often  think  we  have 


378     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

fathomed  our  friends  when  it  is  that  our  short  Hues 
have  given  out,  not  that  we  have  touched  bottom. 
Every  human  soul  is  infinite  aud  you  cannot  settle 
down  with  it  if  you  have  any  appreciation  of  it.  If 
you  have  but  eyes  to  sec  you  will  always  be  making 
new  discoveries. 

I  do  not  live  in  a  nest,  I  live  in  a  cave,  and  my 
present  busy-ness  is,  and  has  long  been,  to  repair  a 
breach  in  a  wall  that  was  made  some  forty  odd  years 
ago,  and  of  which,  of  course,  I  must  be  entirely 
innocent.  The  nuts  and  blackberries  are  very  good,  the 
squirrels  and  ground-mice  are  my  companions,  and 
birds  in  their  summer  rambles.  We  understand  each 
other  well.  The  trees  have  much  to  say  to  me,  and 
the  hills  and  I  have  a  fellow-feeling.  My  amuse 
ment  is  to  go  up  to  the  fence  and  peep  through. 

"  God's  own  profound 
Is  above  me,  and  round  me  the  mountains, 

And  under  the  sea  — 
And  within  me  my  heart  to  bear  witness 

What  was  and  shall  be." 

If  you  ask  twenty  people  who  live  right  around  me 
not  one  of  them  will  tell  you  this  —  I  alone  know  it. 
People  often  irritate  me  because  they  think  I  am  in 
the  world,  and  they  want  me  to  do  this  and  that 
and  the  other,  which  would  be  quite  the  thing  to  do, 
if  I  were  indeed  in  the  world,  but  they  never  see  that 
I  am  not.  I  should  like  to  be  there.  I  look  with 
pleasure  on  the  people  who  are  there.  I  think  I 
should  have  done  somewhat  if  1  had  been  there,  but 
I  was  born  in  the  cave,  and  all  I  cnn  do  is  to  work 
from  it,  and  do  the  best  I  can  in  it.  1  think  I  can  do 
more  for  other  people  there  than  I  could  if  I  stood 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  379 

with  them  in  the  world,  and  that,  I  suppose,  is  the 
reason  I  was  born  there,  but  for  myself  directly  I 
cannot  do  overmuch  in  the  grotto.  You  have  mapped 
out  only,  here  and  there,  an  island  in  your  life,  but  I 
am  good  in  geography,  and  I  can  draw  you  the  coast 
lines  of  your  continents,  and  I  see  only  a  fair  and 
fruitful  land. 

You  wonder  who  sees  your  letters,  I  do  not  wonder 
who  sees  mine.  I  trust  you  entirely.  When  I  write 
to  people,  T  commend  myself  entirely  to  their  dis 
cretion  except  in  specific  instances  when  they  have  no 
data  to  reason  from,  and  then  I  say,  "  Do  not  men 
tion  this  to  anyone,"  but  in  usual  cases  I  assume  that 
the  person  to  whom  I  think  it  worth  while  to  write,  is 
a  person  of  suflicient  discrimination  to  know  what  to 
do  with  my  letters.  I  make  no  stipulations,  and  if  I 
should  be  mistaken,  and  you  should  make  an  un 
worthy  use  of  my  confidence,  I  might  be  angry  with 
you,  but  the  fault  would  primarily  be  my  own,  for  not 
having  sagacity  enough  to  discover  your  real  char- 
actor.  I  know  my  own  surroundings,  you  know 
yours.  I  know  the  persons  who  are  sympathetic,  so 
do  you.  I  am  perfectly  certain  that  you  will  not  dis 
close  anything  of  mine  where  it  will  be  unnaturally 
done,  and  if  it  were  necessary  for  me  to  say  to  you, 
do  not  show  this  to  such  an  one  or  other,  I  should  not 
write  to  you  at  all.  You  are  at  liberty  to  do  what 
ever  you  will  with  my  letters,  guided  only  by  your  own 
sense  of  propriety  and  honor  and  delicacy,  if  indeed, 
they  are  not  all  one.  It  is  perhaps  too  much  to  ask, 
that  you  shall  have  the  same  confidence  in  me  —  as  T 
have  probably  given  you  no  grounds  for  it  —  yet 
there  is  nothing  else  to  trust  to. 


380    GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

[To  MR.  WHITTIER.] 

FEBRUARY   27,   1864. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  am  very  glad  I  did  not  write 
you  the  letter  I  have  been  going  to  write  you  for  two 
or  three  days,  because  now  your  letter  is  the  spon 
taneous  growth  of  the  soil,  and  shows  that  you  do 
think  of  me  sometimes  with  malice  aforethought. 

Lilly  wrote  me  that  your  sister  was  not  well,  but 
it  is  very  sad  that  one  must  go  to  Connecticut  to  hear 
from  one's  neighbors,  though  I  should  not  in  the  least 
mind  going  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  hear  that  she 
was  well.  I  would  go  straight  over  to  you  this  after 
noon,  if  it  were  not  that  my  father  is  quite  ill,  and  it 
is  necessary  that  I  should  be  at  home.  He  has  not 
been  well  for  a  long  time,  but  last  night  in  the  night 
we  thought  him  rather  worse.  This  morning  he  is  up 
and  seems  comfortable. 

I  have  much  confidence  in  the  spring,  if  we  can 
only  get  over  a  few  weeks  now  —  and  there  is  always 
healing  in  its  wings. 

Good-by,  you  dear  peoples  you  — 

from  Me. 

MARCH  2,   1864. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  WOOD  :  Both  your  letters  have 
reached  me,  but  the  continued  and  increasing  illness 
of  my  father  has  prevented,  and  still  continues  to 
prevent,  a  satisfactory  reply.  He  is  now  confined 
almost  entirely  to  his  bed  and  is  very  weak.  We  have 
secured  a  nurse.  He  seems  to  have  no  violent  disease, 
but  suffers  from  a  general  debility.  I  do  not  know 
when  the  book  will  appear,  but  you  will  probably 
have  as  early  a  copy  as  may  be.  Do  not,  however, 


BUSY  YP:ARS  IN  HAMILTON 

let  your  expectations  be  greatly  raised.  The  most 
plentiful  the  book  will  reap  will  undoubtedly  be  dis 
approbation,  lurching  sometimes  into  contemptuous 
pity  and  sometimes  into  unsparing  abuse.  It  is  not 
heterodox  enough  for  the  heterodox,  and  orthodox 
enough  for  the  Orthodox. 

I  thought  you  would  choose  a  note  rather  than  no 
letter,  and  have  therefore  written.     Believe  me, 
Very  truly  yours, 

M.  A.  D. 

[  To  MR.  WHITTIER.J 

HAMILTON,  March  5,  1864. 

DEAR  FRIENDS  :  My  father  died  yesterday  at 
twelve  o'clock  without  pain  or  struggle.  He  only 
ceased  to  breathe.  My  visit  will  of  course  be  post 
poned.  The  funeral  will  be  on  Monday  at  two  o'clock. 
He  was  seventy-six  years  old  on  the  seventh  of  Febru 
ary.  He  looks  pure  and  peaceful,  and  dying  seems  to 
me  less  terrible. 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

Oh,  what  a  mystery  is  all  this  life  and  death  !  What 
is  it  that  lies  beyond  ?  Why  does  a  man  die  ?  What 
has  the  future  ?  We  are  born  into  the  world  and  we 
die  out  of  the  world,  and  what  is  it  all? 

We  buried  my  father  on  Monday,  not  in  the  tomb 
of  his  ancestors,  which  is  already  crowded  with  its 
silent  population,  but  in  a  grave  in  the  southerly  part 
of  the  churchyard  under  the  shade  of  a  young  ever 
green.  I  went  there  the  other  afternoon,  and  it  was 
very  pleasant  and  sunshiny. 

Of  the  thirteen  members  of  my  father's  brother- 


382     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

ami-sisterhood,  only  one  brother  remains.  They  all 
lived  to  be  married,  and  till  the  youngest  was  past 
eighteen.  My  grandmother  died  at  ninety-four. 
There  are  no  grandsons  in  the  county,  and  the  place 
that  has  known  my  family  for  centuries  will  soon 
know  it  no  more. 

HAMILTON,  MASS.,  March  13,  1864. 
MR.  JAMES  : 

DEAH  SIK  :  Ou  the  second  day  of  last  January  I 
received  a  very  pleasant  and  very  valuable  letter  from 
some  one  who  did  not  give  his  name.  Yesterday  I  read 
-a  book,  "  Substance  and  Shadow,"  and  I  am  almost 
certain  the  writer  of  my  letter  and  the  writer  of  that 
book  are  one  and  the  same  person.  I  hope  you  will 
not  think  I  am  trying  to  discover  what  you  do  not 
wish  me  to  know,  but  the  letter  was  so  kind  that  J  did 
want  to  thank  the  writer,  and  this  book  is  so  much 
like  it  that  I  am  sure  you  are  the  one,  and  so  I  cannot 
help  thanking  you.  Jf  you  do  not  remember  writing 
such  a  letter  perhaps  you  did  it  in  a  dream,  but  it 
must  have  been  you.  Your  book  interested  me 
intensely.  I  have  not  quite  finished  it.  There  are 
parts  which  I  do  not  understand,  and  parts  which 
quite  take  my  breath  away,  and  places  where  I  think 
if  I  could  get  access  to  your  writing-table,  I  should 
watch  when  you  went  out  and  then  steal  in  and  draw 
my  pen  through  a  sentence  or  two.  You  would  of 
cour.se  be  very  angry  when  you  saw  yourself  printed 
with  all  my  erasures,  but  I  should  only  laugh  in  your 
face  and  you  would  soon  grow  amiable  again  and  con 
fess  that  I  was  right.  But  for  all  a  few  trap  inter 
ruptions,  one  feels  that  he  is  walking  over  a  stratum 
of  solid,  primitive,  granite  truth,  and  he  acquires 
strength  from  the  tread. 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  383 

I  am  trying  to  work  a  little  in  your  kingdom,  but 
with  so  much  less  of  power  and  insight  that  it  seems 
almost  presumptuous  to  think  of  myself  as  a  worker 
at  all.  Yet  some  may  receive  a  little  illumination 
from  my  flickering  candle' who  would  be  dazzled  blind 
by  your  flood  of  sunshine.  People  may  be  benefited 
by  fragments  of  truth  when  they  are  not  strong 
enough  to  accept  a  system  of  truth. 

Do  forgive  me  for  this  letter  if  you  are  not  the  one. 
I  can  thank  you  for  the  book,  you  know,  anyway. 
And  if  you  are  the  one,  I  thank  you  for  the  letter 
more  than  I  can  tell. 

Most  truly  and  gratefully  yours, 

MARY  ABBY  DODGE. 


MARCH  23,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  SIR  :  Friend,  I  was  going  to  say,  but 
perhaps  after  reading  this  letter  you  will  be  less  dis 
posed  to  assume  such  a  name,  so  I  fall  back  on  the 
safe  generalization. 

Your  letter  was  very  good  and  kind,  and  gave  me 
much  pleasure,  but  I  am  afraid  I  must  have  deceived 
you  in  some  way,  though  nothing  was  farther  from 
my  intention.  I  finished  your  book  last  Sunday  and 
was  most  deeply  and  almost  painfully  convinced  of 
the  infinite  distance  between  us.  Your  letter  only 
made  the  difference  more  obvious,  but  not  more 
actual.  When  I  expressed  to  you  my  satisfaction  in 
your  book,  I  did  not  mean,  in  the  least,  to  put  myself 
on  a  level  with  you  or  to  give  the  smallest  intimation 
that  might  lead  you  to  suppose  -that  I  was  capable  of 
"  intellectual  sympathy  "  with  you.  It  was  only  your 
letter  that  made  me  venture  to  write  at  all.  I  may 


384    GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

have  "  intellectual  maturity,"  but  it  is  the  maturity  of 
the  violet  which,  at  most,  is  slender  and  short-lived, 
and  not  that  of  the  elm,  deep-rooted,  and  outlasting 
generations.  The  violet  is  not  without  its  uses,  you 
know,  but  it  won't  do  the  elm  any  good.  I  wish  I 
could  understand  your  book,  for  I  know  that  it  is  some 
what,  —  but  no  preface  can  explain  it  to  me,  because 
the  obscurity  lies  in  my  brain  and  not  in  your  sen 
tences.  I  never  was  equal  to  metaphysics.  I  like  its 
results,  but  I  do  not  like  its  processes.  I  can  see  but 
not  share  your  delight.  Kant,  and  Schlegel,  and  Sir 
William  Hamilton,  are  nothing  to  me.  I  cannot  bring 
myself  to  be  interested  in  their  theories,  but  you  gird 
at  them  with  true  knightly  ardor.  I  cannot  tell  that 
they  are  wrong,  because  I  do  not  know  what  is  right. 
Now  do  not  cast  me  off  entirely.  My  frankness 
ought  to  commend  me  a  little  to  your  good  graces. 
And  indeed  I  am  not  wholly  given  over  to  intellectual 
fatuity.  There  are  portions  of  your  book  that  I  do 
thoroughly  take  in,  and  subscribe  to,  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul.  I  recognize  them,  not  as  true,  but  as 
a  part  of  the  eternal  truth  of  the  universe  —  funda 
mental  and  unchangeable.  I  rest  in  it  with  the  deep 
est  satisfaction.  And  that  makes  me  all  the  more 
sorry  that  I  do  not  comprehend  the  whole,  or  do  not 
comprehend  it  clearly  or  accurately  enough  to  be  at 
one  with  it.  I  think  after  a  while  I  shall  read  the 
book  again  and  maybe,  you  know,  I  shall  have 
grown  nearer  to  it.  One  grows  so  much  in  a  short 
time. 

You  see  I  only  look  at  things  on  the  surface.  That 
is  my  weakness.  My  strength  is  that  I  see  them  as 
they  are,  and  not  as  tradition,  or  prejudice,  or  popu 
lar  opinion,  represents  them.  Anything  that  the  sun 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON      385 

shines  upon  and  the  wind  breathes  upon  is  in  my 
domain.  You  go  delving  down  among  the  roots  of 
things,  into  the  subterranean  caverns  where  thoughts 
are  made.  I  cannot  go  there  with  37ou,  but  when  you 
come  out  I  find  I  stand  on  the  same  ground  where  you 
have  planted  yourself.  That  on  the  one  hand  gives 
me  confidence  in  the  right  line  of  your  unseen,  under 
ground  motion.  How  came  I  not  only  to  acquiesce 
but  exult  in  your  assertions,  if  I  were  not  in  some 
measure  capable  of  understanding  their  import  and 
their  necessity?  You  speak  of  "  Mill  on  Liberty,"  a 
book  that  I  read  with  an  unutterable  inward  solid 
satisfaction,  something  deeper  than  delight,  as  deep 
as  peace.  Do  you  not  see  that  I  must  respect  myself 
the  more  for  enjoying  what  Mill  writes,  and  you  write 
up?  So  with  a  perfect  consciousness  of  what  a  reed 
I  am  to  lean  on,  I  yet  contrive  to  gather  a  little  con 
tent  from  various  sources.  As  a  staff  I  am  nothing, 
but  perhaps  I  can  make  a  little  music. 

Though  I  do  not  wish  you  to  think  of  me  any  better 
than  I  deserve,  neither  do  I  wish  you  to  think  of  me 
any  worse.  Fumbling  blindly  at  your  palace-door,  I 
am  not  entirely  sure  that  there  is  any  me. 

If  after  all  this  confession  you  still  care  to  know 
my  thoughts,  I  will,  with  your  permission,  send  you 
a  book  which  will  soon  be  published  by  Ticknor  & 
Fields.  It  is  only  a  fragmentary  thing  —  all  my 
things  are  fragmentary.  But  travelling  my  by-ways 
I  occasionally  strike  into  your  highway,  and  there  I 
think  you  will  reach  out  your  hand  in  friendly  greet 
ing.  You  must  remember,  too,  that  I  had  a  different 
starting-point  from  you.  I  set  out  from  a  low-land, 
rather  boggy,  thickly  tangled,  densely  peopled,  and 
overhung  with  dark,  low  clouds.  You,  I  suspect, 


386     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

began  on  a  broad  and  sterile  plain,  harder  to  live  on 
than  mine,  but  easier  to  leave.  I  am  not  nearly  so 
far  up  the  mountain-side  as  you,  but  it  is  much  that  I 
am  even  at  the  mountain's  base.  Of  one  thing  I  am 
sure,  we  are  one  in  "the  great  humane  drift  of  our 
thought."  I  am  in  no  danger  of  letting  that  be 
obscured,  for  it  was  that  which  drew  me  to  the 
book.  You  will  do  your  great;  I  shall  do  my  little. 
I  shall  whisk  off  a  few  thistle-heads  with  my  stick ; 
you  will  bend  your  Atlas  shoulders  under  the  vine 
yard  and  lift  it  up  into  the  sunshine  —  but  both  to 
the  same  end  —  that  wine  may  be  borne  to  parched 
lips. 

I  feel  very  sadly  that  this  is  not  at  all  such  a  letter 
as  you  crave,  and  as  I  fear  you  look  to  receive,  but 
if  the  great  boon  of  your  life  is  to  be  found  in  giving, 
you  have  still  the  best  of  authority  for  calling  your 
self  most  blessed. 

I  am  very  truly  and  gratefully  yours, 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

[To  MR.   WHITTIER.] 

MARCH  30,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  Thanks  for  your  kind  words, 
you  know  they  are  coin  of  the  realm  to  me.  Your 
letter  pains  me.  Death  to  me  is  not  dreadful,  but 
disease  is.  If  she  did  not  suffer  I  should  not  mind 
the  loss  of  health.  It  is  the  very  goodness  of  God 
that  strikes  me  with  terror.  He  is  utterly  good,  yet 
he  lets  such  terrible  things  happen,  and  where  can 
one  look  for  refuge  ?  Nevertheless,  do  not  think  this, 
for  it  is  right  now  and  in  the  end  it  will  be  seen  right 
and  the  best  thing.  Doesn't  it  give  you  light  at  the 
heart's  depths  to  think  of  the  future  —  the  exceeding 


BUSY   YEARS   IX   HAMILTON  387 

and  eternal  glory,  so  exceeding  that  it  is  even  a 
iveight  of  glory  ?  Wherefore,  comfort  ye  one  another 
with  these  words.  Don't  be  cast  down.  I  see  such 
an  ineffable  brightness  before  you.  I  don't  see,  I 
suppose,  the  darkness  that  surrounds  you,  yet  I  feel 
the  shadow  of  it,  but  the  light  is  just  ahead. 

Give  my  love  to  that  darling  little  drooping,  sensi 
tive  plant  in  this  pell-mell  world,  and  to  your  own 
blessed  self,  and  don't  mind  my  adjectives,  which 
won't  suit  your  Quakerly  reticence,  but  they  are  the 
sweetest  matter-of-fact. 

Good-night  and  always  good-morning. 


[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

APRIL  5,  1864. 

Your  letter  quite  terrifies  me.  My  ignorance  on  the 
subject  of  Agricultural  Colleges  is  unfathomable  and 
inconceivable.  In  one  paragraph  I  have  fallen  upon 
an  idea  in  your  letter,  but  as  for  being  of  the  smallest 
use  to  you  in  founding  your  college,  I  must  beg  you  at 
once  to  disabuse  yourself  of  any  dream  of  such  a  thing. 
I  have  no  doubt  everything  I  shall  say  has  been  said 
before  twenty  times.  It  is  only  that  I  thought  I 
might  reach  a  class  of  people  whom  you  regular  agri 
cultural  writers  could  not  or  do  not  reach,  the  people 
whose  prejudices  are  baked  brown  and  close  and 
hard.  Don't  misunderstand  me  to  be  assuming  any 
undue  ignorance.  Modesty  is  not  my  forte.  I  know 
what  I  do  know,  but  especially  I  know  what  I  don't 
know!  And  your  Agricultural  College  is  just  one  of 
those  things. 

I  do  not  design  to  advance  any  new  theories,  but 
only  present  a  few  that  I  have  always  had  lying 


388     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

about.  On  one  point,  however,  I  am  certain,  that  is? 
in  my  own  mind,  the  boys  should  be  governed  by 
their  sense  of  honor  and  not  by  rules,  but  everything 
depends  on  tact  in  management  in  that  case  as  well 
as  in  every  other.  As  for  business  I  do  not  believe 
there  would  be  any  good  in  talking  it  over  with  me. 
You  don't  seem  to  know  what  a  reed  I  am  to  lean  on, 
or  to  make  music  with,  too,  for  that  matter.  The 
only  use  of  me  is  to  make  me  into  a  pen,  —  a  gr;iy 
goose  quill, — the  wherewith  being  already  to  your 
hand. 

APRIL  6,  1864. 

I  am  living  here  very  quietly  just  now.  My  little 
pupil  is  going  to  school,  so  I  am  released  from  the  task 
of  hearing  her  recitations  and  from  the  responsibility 
of  her  education.  My  mother  and  I  are  alone  in  the 
house,  but  we  have  two  families  in  the  other  one,  and 
that  makes  it  much  less  lonely.  It  will  be  far  more 
pleasant  when  the  summer  comes.  As  yet  we  have 
very  cold,  wet,  unpleasant  weather.  The  appendix 
to  winter  is  far  more  wintry  than  the  winter  was 
itself. 

Last  January,  New  Year,  I  received  a  very  charm 
ing  letter  from  some  one  who  did  not  sign  his  name. 
The  other  day  I  was  reading  Henry  James'  '•  Sub 
stance  and  Shadow,"  and  I  became  convinced  that  the 
writer  of  that  book  and  of  my  letter  were  one  and 
the  same.  I  accordingly  despatched  a  note  to  him 
and  found  my  surmises  were  correct,  since  which  time 
I  have  taken  to  myself  great  credit  for  my  sagacity. 
Have  you  seen  the  "\reil  Partly  Lifted"  ?  It  is  by 
some  Furness.  Do  you  know  anything  of  him?  I 
consider  it  a  quite  remarkable  book.  I  have  Jean 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  389 

Paul's  "Campaner  Thai,"  but  have  not  yet  had  time 
to  examine  it.  A  book  of  essays  by  Chancellor  Hoyt, 
of  the  St.  Louis  University,  has  been  engaging  my 
attention  of  late.  How  many  good  books  there  are 
if  one  had  but  time  for  them  all !  But  of  reading  as 
well  as  making  them  there  is  no  end.  I  am  just  now 
largely  engaged  in  the  poultry  business.  We  have 
twelve  hens.  Within  a  month  they  have  laid  con 
siderably  more  than  twelve  dozen  eggs  —  that  is, 
twelve  dozen  beside  all  we  have  cooked  —  and  we 
have  also  a  hen  setting.  The  chickens  are  due  in  a 
fortnight  and  I  look  for  their  appearance  with  great 
interest.  Do  you  not  think  I  have  done  very  well  for 
a  beginner  ? 

Thursday  morning.  So  far  yesterday  and  now 
children  are  making  day  musical  with  their  chatting 
and  laughing.  How  beautiful  is  the  racket  of  chil 
dren's  awaking  in  the  morning !  They  are  so  full  of 
life  and  laughter.  The  birds  are  singing,  too,  and  the 
spring  is  surely  coming,  though  it  is  cold  to-day.  I 
am  very  busy  these  last  few  weeks  and  shall  be,  prob 
ably,  till  summer.  Then  I  shall  take  more  time  to  be 
lazy  in. 

APRIL  12. 

I  have  not  read  any  of  the  papers  you  mentioned, 
because,  as  Sydney  Smith  might  say,  it  prejudices 
one  so  to  know  anything  about  his  subject.  I  had 
these  few  things  I  wished  to  s-ay,  and  I  thought  it  best 
to  say  those  clip  and  clear,  and  not  try  to  do  too 
much.  Perhaps  I  may  one  day  give  another  blow  at 
it,  but  I  think  this  paper  is  quite  long  enough  for  a 
comfortable  reading.  I  know  and  have  read  so  little 
about  this  matter  that  what  I  have  said  may  be  quite 


390     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable,  only  that  paper  is  seven 
cents  a  pound  and  we  keep  it  to  buy  crockery  with. 

All  I  wanted  to  know  about  girls  in  this  college  you 
have  told  me,  though  in  a  very  snappish  and  unbe 
coming  manner.  Women  are  not  a  distinctive  feature 
in  this  college ;  that  was  the  point  I  wished  to  be  in 
formed  of.  I  have  therefore  said  nothing  about  that 
department.  You  will  see  I  have  confined  myself  to 
safe,  if  not  to  sounding,  generalities.  In  discussing 
the  construction  of  the  college  the  woman  question 
might  come  into  play,  but  in  rny  paper  it  would  have 
been  out  of  place.  I  agree  with  you  entirely  —  which 
must  relieve  your  mind  greatly  —  about  girls  and  boys 
in  school,  but  if  you  could  give  up  your  occult  pro 
fanity)  as  if  I  should  not  know  the  Evil  One  under  a 
Scotch  plaid  !)  and  look  about  you,  I  think  you  would 
find  there  is  a  great  deal  for  girls  to  do  in  an  Agri 
cultural  College  besides  dusting  and  ironing.  But 
you  are  a  man,  poor  creature,  and  what  can  one 
expect? 

Wednesday  morning.  One  thing  I  forgot  —  I  think, 
and  so  does  my  mother  —  for  whose  opinion  I  suppose 
you  care  no  more  than  you  do  for  mine  —  that  if  this 
is  printed  it  ought  to  be  done  anonymously.  Nobody 
will  have  any  confidence  in  me,  but  if  they  think  it  is 
some  man  who  wrote  it,  it  may  have  a  feather's  weight. 
It  was  my  settled  will  and  purpose  to  keep  myself 
entirely  hidden  from  knowledge  or  conjecture  from 
beginning  to  end,  but  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  that 
Wicked  One,  whom  we  veil  under  an  apostrophe,  have 
conspired  to  thwart  my  purposes  and  have  partly  suc 
ceeded,  so  far  at  least  as  to  think,  or  to  take  for 
granted,  that  my  pen  is  of  the  feminine  gender.  Be 
sides,  also,  I  suppose  I  have  written  so  much  trash 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  391 

that  I  shall  not  easily  get  credit  for  anything  like 
sound  sense.  I  will  only  say  this  one  thing  more. 
Don't  look  at  my  paper  in  the  light  of  what  it  is  not, 
but  of  what  it  is ;  and  don't  say  I  have  made  much 
ado  about  nothing,  because  that  is  all  I  have  to  make 
an  ado  about. 

APRIL  18. 

It  gave  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to  know  that 
you  were  pleased  with  my  paper.  My  mother  desires 
her  compliments,  and  says  she  is  very  glad  of  the 
picture,  as  she  never  before  had  a  distinct  idea  of 
John  the  Baptist.  I  think  John's  head  is  very  —  judi 
cial.  Do  you  suppose  he  ever  in  his  life  said  a  funny 
thing?  Did  he  ever  do  awkward,  headlong,  wild, 
hateful  things  and  not  know  anything  about  them  till 
they  were  done,  and  then  tear  his  hair  in  impotent 
remorse  ?  Do  you  suppose  he  knows  anything  about 
a  life,  an  experience,  an  atmosphere  utterly  unlike  his 
own?  Could  he  understand  that  expression  is  often 
tangent-}-,  spasmodic,  convulsive,  unreal,  by  sheer 
force  of  /orce,  and  not  of  choice  ?  I  know  that  he  is 
gentle  and  generous,  nevertheless  he  looks  clear-cut 
and  self-possessed,  and  finished,  and  could  he  tolerate 
a  farm  over-grown  and  over-tangled  with  wild  vines 
and  many  a  thorn,  in  consideration  of  a  little  fruit 
pleasant  to  the  taste  and  good  for  food,  and  to  be 
desired  to  make  one  wise?  Would  he  forgive  a  moun 
tain  of  sand  for  a  little  diamond-dust  ?  Never,  never, 
never.  And  we  will  not  ask  him.  Every  one  must 
live  his  own  life. 

You  read  me  an  eloquent  lecture  on  the  subject  of 
the  cardinal  virtues  !  It  is  pleasant  to  utter  an  inno- 

1  Photograph  of  Judge  French,  which  he  labelled  John  the  Baptist. 


392     GAIL. HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

cent  little  moral  reflection  and  be  snapped  up  immedi 
ately  as  if  one  had  in  serious  faith  broken  the  Deca 
logue  in  a  hundred  pieces — gives  one  a  delightful 
sense  of  security,  spontaneity,  abandon !  However, 
since  you  choose  to  make  a  mountain  out  of  a  mole 
hill,  1  am  ready  to  meet  you  on  the  mountain-top. 
You  sweep  the  whole  circle  of  the  world,  nay  of  the 
heavens  above  and  the  earth  beneath,  past  and  pres 
ent.  The  resources  of  our  own  language  are  not  suf 
ficient,  but  you  bring  up  from  the  Romish  priesthood 
which  you  despise,  feathers  for  the  barb  which  you 
let  fly  at  me.  Well,  under  an  Ossa  on  Pelion  piled 
am  I  any  less  right  than  on  it?  Listen  to  me.  I  have 
a  Sunday  School  class,  —  a  big  one,  —  two  pews  full. 
I  cannot  abide  teaching  of  any  kind.  It  is  immeas 
urably  and  unspeakably  irksome  to  me  to  sit  down 
before  people  and  drill  things  into  them.  All  the 
good  I  like  to  do  is  what  I  can  do  alone  in  my  own 
room.  Now  here  is  another  person  who  delights  in 
teaching  for  its  own  sake.  She  is  never  so  happy  as 
when  so  engaged.  But  I  think  I  have  no  right  to  do 
what  I  like  to  do,  come  home  and  be  by  myself,  so  I 
break  in  upon  my  sacred  time  and  stay  at  Sunday 
School  and  teach  my  girls.  Am  I  not  more  virtuous 
than  the  other  one  who  only  stays  because  she  likes 
it?  I  mean,  do  I  not  in  that  act  exhibit  or  call  into 
action  more  virtue  than  she  ?  Again  :  the  people  are 
not  greatly  given  to  literature.  To  induce  them  to 
read  I  offered  to  lend  my  books.  They  accepted  the 
offer,  and  I  now  have  a  list  of  thirty  or  so  names  and 
forty  or  fifty  people  who  on  a  set  day  come  and  take 
a  certain  part  of  my  books  to  read.  Now  my  books 
are  among  the  few  things  dear  to  me.  Every  book 
that  I  put  into  this  circulating  library  I  withdraw  from 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  393 

my  private  hoard.  I  must  of  course  divest  it  of  all 
its  value  to  myself.  It  loses  all  its  sanctity.  It  be 
comes  common  and  unclean.  Now  will  you  tell  me 
there  is  no  more  virtue  in  my  lending  these  books  to 
Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  and  their  wives  and  daughters, 
than  there  would  be  if  I  did  not  care  at  all  for  books 
and  would  just  as  soon  lend  them  indiscriminately  as 
not?  "  What  sacrifice  is  it  to  an  angel  to  do  right?" 
None.  But  know  ye  not  that  by  reason  of  the  supe 
rior  virtue  which  our  sacrifice  ministers  to  us,  we  shall 
judge  angels  ?  You  surely  do  not  need  to  be  told  that 
the  judge  is  higher  than  those  he  judges. 

Won't  you,  for  old  friendship's  sake,  put  this  fact 
and  the  explanation  into  an  appendix  of  my  biogra 
phy,  so  that  I  may  not  suffer  with  posterity  as  well 
as  with  my  contemporaries  ?  As  the  fashion  seems  to 
be  nowadays  to  write  lives  while  people  are  living, 
my  life  and  sufferings  may  start  up  any  day,  so  be  on 
the  look-out,  please. 

Mr.  Flint's  supposititious  incubation  was  most  im 
pressive,  because,  from  circumstances,  I  have  lived 
much  among  hens  the  last  few  weeks  and  have  learned 
their  habits,  and  especially  the  calm,  stolid,  placid 
pertinacity  of  a  hen  on  thirteen  eggs  —  ours  have  fif 
teen,  though,  but  that  does  not  affect  the  principle. 

Mr.  Fields  is  not  only  a  handsome  man,  but  one  of 
the  nicest  men  in  the  world,  straight-forward,  genial, 
simple-hearted,  though  in  the  thick  of  the  city.  I  like 
him  very  much,  and  he  has  the  sweetest  wife,  and 
beautiful,  too,  and  they  are  as  happy  as  can  be. 

Remember  that  you  are  not  working  for  yourself 
but  for  other  people,  and  when  you  see  men  doing 
mean  and  idiotic  things,  let  your  thank-offering  for 
not  being  like  them  be,  not  the  Pharisee's  unseemly 


394     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

exultation,  but  a  divine  patience  and  long-suffering. 
Now  you  need  not  laugh  at  that,  for  I  think  it  is  good 
gospel.  And  do  not  be  anxious  over-much  for  the 
country.  You  have  not  to  bear  its  weight  on  your 
shoulders.  I  think  we  ought  to  do  everything  we  can 
do  and  then  not  fret.  Of  course  fretting  is  largely  a 
matter  of  temperament.  It  seems  to  me  I  love  my 
country  as  deeply  as  any  one  can,  at  any  rate  any  one 
with  no  more  knack  at  loving  than  I  have,  —  yet  I  go 
to  bed  at  nine  o'clock  and  sleep  "like  a  top  "  till  sun 
rise,  but  I  have  such  a  strong  confidence  "  that  some 
how  good  will  be  the  final  goal  of  ill,"  not  only  in 
country  but  in  everything.  Now  don't  think  I  mean 
to  set  up  a  superior  faith  to  yours.  The  process  by 
which  I  arrive  at  results  may  be  simply  shallowness 
or  a  natural  torpidity,  nevertheless  the  results  are 
desirable,  and  if  you  can  come  at  them  by  a  round 
about  road  of  faith  in  the  Divine  goodness,  so  much 
the  better. 

Next  Sunday  I  purpose  to  go  to  Amesbury  to  see 
the  beloved  Whittier  and  his  sick  sister.  The  week 
after  I  go  to  Boston.  If  you  look  out  of  your  win 
dow,  down  Washington  street,  and  see  a  woman  com 
ing  up  like  Tennyson's  Maud,  '•  tall  and  stately,"  "  a 
face  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought,"  a  cer 
tain  queenly  air,  a  natural  authority  —  something 
which  people  instinctively  take  off  their  hats  to  — 
come  down  from  your  window  and  greet  me,  for  it 
will  be  me. 

[To  MR.  HENRY  JAMES.] 

APRIL  18,  1864. 

I  want  to  write  to  you  because  I  have  ever  so  many 
things  to  say  —  so  many  in  fact  that  I  don't  think  it 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  395 

is  of  the  least  use  to  begin.  On  some  of  them  indeed  I 
shall  not  begin,  and  indeed  don't  you  find  sometimes 
that  the  very  things  you  want  to  say  most  you  cannot 
say  at  all  ?  It  seems  as  if  your  thought  is  a  great 
ledge  of  rock,  and  you  have  only  one  little  crowbar 
to  quarry  it  all  out  with. 

I  have  been  thinking  a  great  deal  the  last  three  or 
four  weeks  —  a  great  deal  for  me,  I  mean  —  and  of 
my  kind  of  thinking,  which  I  don't  suppose  is  pre 
cisely  like  that  of  Newton  or  Archimedes,  but  then 
when  a  chicken  speaks  it  is  always  understood  that  he 
speaks  chickenly,  and  not  in  the  character  of  a  phil 
osopher.  And  I  was  going  to  bring  several  of  my 
stopping-places  to  you.  You  know  you  go  on  in  one 
direction  awhile  and  then  you  bring  up  against  some 
thing.  Well,  those  somethings  I  thought  I  would 
look  at  through  your  spectacles,  but  since  I  have  begun 
this  letter  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  I  was  so  blind 
when  I  began  your  book  that  many  things  must  have 
escaped  me,  and  it  certainly  would  be  very  impertinent 
to  ask  you  questions  that  you  have  already  answered. 
How  very  strange  it  is  that  you  never  see  anything  till 
your  eyes  are  opened  to  it !  You  walk  about  among 
naked  truths,  but  if  you  have  not  come  to  the  need  of 
those  truths  you  may  tread  on  one  end  of  them  and 
they  may  fly  up  in  your  face  and  yet  you  won't  see 
them.  Now  it  seems  to  me  as  if  in  the  last  few 
weeks  I  might  almost  say  Heaven  has  been  opened 
to  me.  I  am  sure  I  have  had  glimpses  into  a  new 
world.  Do  you  know  I  understand  your  book  so 
much  better  since  I  have  been  thinking  it  over  after  I 
had  finished  it  than  I  did  while  I  was  reading  it.  I 
see  that  some  of  its  positions  have  always  existed  in 
our  own  creed  and  Bible  in  solution.  Never  you 


396     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

mind,  will  you,  if  I  mix  metaphors  a  little?  In  a 
letter  there  is  no  need  to  have  everything  in  a  straight 
line.  But  the  fact  is,  people  have  practical  beliefs 
which  never  give  them  the  smallest  trouble  till  some 
one  starts  up  and  puts  their  belief  in  words  and  casts 
it  into  their  teeth,  when  they  make  a  great  outcry. 
Now  we  good  Orthodox  people,  and  I  am  Orthodox, 
too,  and  one  of  the  best  of  them,  may  read  Sunday 
after  Sunday  that  it  "  is  God  that  worketh  in  you  to 
will  and  to  do,"  and  that  "ye  are  dead  and  your  life 
is  hid  with  Christ  in  God  ''  —  yet  we  shall  none  the 
less  flout  at  your  theory,  which  seems  to  me  only  the 
system  of  the  truth  of  which  these  are  incidental  frag 
ments.  But  fortunately,  or  rather  necessarily,  truth 
is  indivisible,  and  so  all  its  parts  are  consistent.  So 
when  you  once  get  hold  of  one  part,  every  other  part 
bears  on  it  for  confirmation.  Since  you  have  by  main 
force  projected  and  interjected  this  idea,  I  seem  to 
see  so  many  things  bearing  witness  of  its  truth.  It 
gives  kernel  to  shell.  It  gives  light  to  twilight.  It 
gives  order  to  chaos.  I  wonder  will  it  explain  every 
thing?  As  soon  as  your  new  edition  comes  out  I  am 
going  to  read  it  again,  and  with  a  pencil  in  ray  hand, 
and  then  you  must  look  out,  for  I  shall  come  to  you 
unmercifully  and  demand  explanations  at  the  point  of 
the  bayonet.  Of  course  a  writer  cannot  undertake  to 
write  so  that  stupid  people  can  understand  him,  but 
the  man  who  does  not  write  down  to  my  level  will 
have  a  very  small  audience  !  There's  modesty  for  you. 
And  so,  what  a  person  who  is  no  more  stupid  than  I 
cannot  understand,  it  is  meet,  right,  and  your  bouiiden 
duty  to  explain.  Also  please  to  remember  that  when 
you  write  a  book  you  don't  write  it  —  at  least  3Tou 
ought  not  to  write  it  for  the  delight  of  the  few,  but 


BUSY  YEARS  IX  HAMILTON  397 

for  the  elevation  of  the  many.  Consequently  it  ought 
not  to  be  of  half  so  much  importance  to  you  to  know 
how  it  effects  the  great  lights  that  rule  the  day,  as  it 
is  to  know  what  it  does  to  the  lesser  lights  that  only 
come  out  by  night.  The  first  stiiue  by  their  own 
radiance  and  will  shine  anyway.  The  second  have 
only  a  borrowed  light  and  must  be  shone  upon. 

There  is  another  thing  in  your  letter  which  gave  me 
so  much  satisfaction.  I  suppose  you  have  forgotten 
all  about  it.  But  you  do  not  know  how  many  people 
there  are  who  say  to  me,  or  to  my  friends,  that  they 
should  think  all  this  popularity  and  fame,  etc.,  would 
make  me  vain.  Now,  apart  from  the  fact  that  there 
are  two  sides  to  popularity,  —  at  least  to  mine,  —  and 
supposing  even  that  there  were  only  one  side,  and 
that  the  sunny  one,  I  still  cannot  conceive  what  cause 
or  provocative  of  vanity  exists,  and  it  rests  me  that 
you  look  at  such  a  thing  just  as  it  is.  I  cannot  say 
anything  when  people  talk  so,  for  if  they  can  talk  so 
1  don't  know  whether  they  can  be  made  to  understand 
the  truth.  Vain  !  I  think  it  is  the  incitement  rather 
to  the  profoundest  humility  —  to  a  complete  self-disap 
pearance.  I  should  as  soon  think  of  the  Virgin  being 
vain  to  have  been  selected  to  be  the  mother  of  Christ. 
For  every  power  God  has  given  me  I  feel  utterly 
glad  and  grateful.  I  rejoice  in  myself.  I  am  de 
lighted  that  God  did  not  make  me  dull,  and  indifferent, 
and  heavy,  and  I  am,  —  I  will  not  say  delighted,  —  I 
ought  rather  to  say  awed,  that  He  has,  I  believe, 
made  me  the  medium  through  which  He  conveys  some 
of  His  truth  and  consolation,  but  I  never  heard  that 
an  aqueduct  pipe  ever  set  up  to  be  vain  or  self- 
conceited.  I  only  pray  that  I  may  keep  myself  pure 
and  transparent,  that  the  holy  light  may  shine  through 


398     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

me  clear  and  bright.  Now  I  think  this  is  what  you 
mean,  but  so  I  have  always  felt.  I  do  not  either 
believe  that  the  heavenly  light  is  necessarily  a  "dim, 
religious  light"  always.  I  believe  that  it  may  be  the 
light  of  fun  and  frolic,  of  love  and  laughter.  I  think 
you  can  do  good  by  sunshine  as  well  as  by  rain,  and 
I  think  the  good  God  sends  His  message  to  men  by 
putting  mirth  into  their  lives  as  well  as  by  repentance. 
I  hope  you  think  so,  because  if  you  do  not,  }'ou  must 
think  me  very  often  false  to  my  errand.  But  don't 
you  know  you  can  help  a  man  under  a  burden  if  you 
can  make  him  forget  it,  even  when  you  cannot  take  it 
away  from  him.  When  people  write  to  me  and  tell 
me  that  I  have  done  them  good,  that  makes  me  happy. 
I  enjoy  making  their  lives  a  little  brighter.  I  thank 
God  that  instead  of  giving  me  a  wash-tub,  or  a  needle, 
or  a  broom  to  work  my  work  with,  he  has  given  me 
a  pen,  and  a  whole  country  for  my  family.  I  do  not 
always  feel  so.  Sometimes  I  seem  to  myself  to  be 
neither  one  thing  nor  another,  not  a  man  and  not  a 
good  kind  of  a  woman,  and  indeed  as  a  woman  I  am 
not  worth  much,  and  sometimes  I  am  disgusted  with  — 
some  things.  As  a  respectable  society  woman  I  am 
a  good  deal  of  a  failure,  but  as  a  human  being  I  am 
very  glad  that  "I  am  what  I  am."  If  I  had  been 
made  greater  and  deeper  I  should  have  been  more 
glad,  but  I  am  very  glad  to  be  as  I  am. 

I  think  you  are  very,  very  kind  to  write  me  such 
nice  letters.  I  shall  not  pay  your  sagacity  so  poor  a 
compliment  as  to  depreciate  my  worthiness  to  receive 
them,  but  I  can  answer  for  it  that  they  do  not  fall 
upon  un appreciative  ground.  One  ought  to  do  what 
is  given  him  to  do,  whether  men  will  bear  or  whether 
they  will  forbear,  alone  as  well  as  with  a  multitude. 


BUSY  YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  399 

Nevertheless,  I  think  recognition  is  one  of  the  most 
delightful  things  in  this  world.  I  am  ashamed  to  say 
that  I  do  become  irritated  sometimes  at  the  per 
verse  stupidity  of  people.  You  need  not  tell  me  that 
that  is  very  wrong  and  poor  return  to  make,  for  I 
know  it  all,  and  that,  besides,  it  reduces  me  to  the 
level  of  that  which  irritates  me.  I  only  state  it  as  a 
fact,  I  do  not  justify  it.  You  must  understand  that 
I  fear  I  know  much  better  than  I  do,  but  then  I 
always  try  to  keep  my  standard  from  trailing. 

Now  let  me  take  my  turn  and  give  you  a  little  ex 
hortation,  Do  not  you  fear  to  die  and  leave  no  sign 
of  having  lived  to  some  purpose.  You  say  you  do 
not  succeed  in  communicating  your  convictions.  But 
I  know  that  conscientious  work  is  never  lost.  Don't 
you  ask  me  how  I  know,  for  I  cannot  tell  you,  but  I 
do  know  it,  and  you  may  believe  me.  Thought  will 
set  itself  free.  Benevolence  will  work  itself  out. 
Nothing  can  confine  them,  and  if  there  is  not  one 
person  in  the  country  who  fully  takes  in  your  plan, 
all  the  same  your  work  is  not  lost.  Perhaps  one  will 
take  in  a  brick  here,  and  another  a  window-seat  there, 
and  a  third  a  cornice,  and  so,  by  fragments  it  may  be, 
the  whole  temple  is  reproduced.  Why  look  at  me  — 
am  I  not  receiving  of  your  fulness,  not  completely, 
but  as  a  pond  may  receive  of  a  sea  ?  —  and,  moreover, 
it  is  a  pond  that  has  more  than  one  outlet.  You  pour 
into  me  and  through  a  thousand  little  brooks  ;  when  I 
have  once  mingled  your  waters  with  mine,  I  shall  send 
them  out  again.  They  will  not  be  "the  sea,  the  sea, 
the  open  sea,"  but  they  will  go  in  dew-drops  and 
spray,  they  will  spring  up  in  violets  and  mayflowers, 
and  the  earth  will  be  green  and  the  meadows  gay, 
and  is  not  that  something  to  be  happy  for?  I  am 


400     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

afraid  you  make  no  account  of  anything  smaller  than 
oaks,  but  dear  me  !  how  many  people  do  you  suppose 
there  are  who  live  upon  oak-trees  ? 

Don't  you  think  it  is  nice  for  me  to  be  setting  you 
right? 

Nevertheless,  I  am  very  truly 

Your  friend, 

MARY  ABBY  DODGK. 


APRIL  19,   1864. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER  :  Your  letter  reached  us  at  the 
end  of  a  five-days'  journey,  which  we  consider  a 
remarkably  short  passage.  I  write  now  just  to  speak 
of  your  coming  home  next  winter.  The  longer  you 
stay  out  there  without  coming  home  the  easier  it  will 
be  to  stay,  and  the  harder  it  will  be  to  come  home  ; 
while  nothing,  it  seems  to  me,  is  of  so  much  importance 
as  to  keep  bright  the  links  that  unite  us.  It  is  so 
much  easier  to  keep  them  so  than  to  polish  them  up 
after  they  shall  have  become  rusty,  and  we  think  you 
have  been  away  long  enough.  As  for  the  boy,  of 
course  we  do  not  expect  him  to  hold  his  hands  all  day, 
or  his  tongue  either,  but  you  can  have  the  bed-room 
and  the  sitting-room.  I  shall  have  a  fire  in  my  room 
and  in  the  parlor,  and  if  mother  gets  tired  of  his 
chatter,  as  she  very  likely  will  at  times,  she  can  go 
away  and  be  quiet.  Every  year  diminishes  the 
chance  of  a  reunion.  Of  course  we  shall  not  expect 
you  to  remain  here  all  the  time.  I  suppose  Beverly 
and  Salem  and  Cambridge  will  claim  y;>u  a  part  of  it, 
but  even  here,  with  many  books  and  papers,  I  think 
you  could  pass  a  very  comfortable  winter. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  401 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

MAY  6,   1864. 

It  is  nearly  nine  o'clock  and  the  labors  of  Hercules 
were  but  a  pastime  compared  with  the  work  which  I 
have  been  doing  to-day,  and  these  many  days.  House- 
cleaning  —  did  you  ever  hear  of  it?  You  men  do  not 
know  what  the  toils  of  life  are.  The  dreadfulness  of 
house-cleaning  !  The  uproar,  the  everything  out  of  its 
place,  and  company  to  dinner  !  We  have  had  a  buxom 
Irish  wife  to  wash  the  house,  and  another  to  wash  the 
movables,  but  still  there  are  so  ninny  thousand  things 
that  no  one  can  do  but  your  own  self,  and  one  is  so  long 
in  the  doing  of  them,  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  it  won't 
stay  done.  With  what  pleasure  would  one  breathe 
dust  and  swim  in  a  tub  for  a  week,  if  he  might  have 
dry  ness  and  cleanness  the  rest  of  the  year.  On  the 
contrary,  the  dust  gathers  at  one  end  of  the  house 
before  the  other  end  is  dry  from  its  bath.  Neverthe 
less,  house-cleaning  is  a  good  thing.  It  gives  such  a 
charming  fragrance  of  soap-suds,  and  it  weans  one 
from  the  world. 

When  one  has  a  farm  to  carry  on  and  various  live 
stock  to  care  for,  besides  a  great  variety  of  public 
duties,  what  can  one  do?  I  have  been  to-day,  for 
instance, — besides  house-cleaning,  —  gardening.  That 
is,  I  sat  down  in  the  midst  of  the  hubbub  this  morning 
and  drew  a  plan  for  a  small  garden.  Now  you  see  I 
know  nothing  in  the  world  about  gardening,  but  then 
here  I  am.  So  I  "  turned  to"  and  have  produced  a 
very  respectable  grass-plat  —  on  paper  —  and  have 
sent  for  the  seeds.  What  will  come  up  remains  to  be 
seen,  though  as  yet  nothing  has  gone  down.  But  the 
weather  now  is  warm  and  dry.  Summer  has  come 


402     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

upon  us  suddenly  like  a  strong  man  armed  ;  may  the 
good  Father  protect  our  armies,  who  in  this  sweet 
month  of  May  are  reaping  the  bloody  harvest  of  all 
our  sins  and  our  fathers'  sins ! 

As  for  burning  up  the  papers  you  send,  begging 
your  pardon,  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,  so  long  as 
paper  is  five  cents  a  pound.  I  sold  fifteen  pounds  the 
other  day  and  bought  a  lovely  glass  pitcher  which 
went  straight  off  and  cracked  and  is  now  bound  up 
with  rose-ribbon  —  and  you  talk  of  burning  papers ! 
No,  sir.  I  have  read  Herbert  Spencer's  book  on 
"  Education"  and  like  it  much.  A  great  many  nails 
he  hits  with  wonderful  accuracy  square  on  the  head. 

The  "Stones  of  Stumbling"  will  very  likely  be 
triturated  as  you  suggest,  and  in  some  points  they 
will  doubtless  deserve  it.  They  were  piled  together 
many  years  ago,  —  some  as  many  as  five,  —  and  the 
monument  in  all  its  parts  and  proportions  may  not 
now  suit  even  my  own  ideas  of  symmetry.  Never 
theless,  the  line  of  beauty  and  the  line  of  truth  may 
both  be  found  there.  As  for  the  stoning  with  stones, 
I  have  been  in  these  meteoric  showers  before,  and  did 
not  find  them  so  formidable  as  to  create  a  panic, 
though  they  are  not  so  pleasant  as  June  sunshine. 
Reform  the  world,  I  will,  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 
You  may  sit  over  your  wine  and  pleasantly  assert  that 
they  deserved  to  be  damned  and  doubtless  will  be, 
and  take  comfort  in  the  thought,  but  I  shall  go  out 
into  the  highways  and  hedges  and  compel  them  to 
come  into  the  temple  of  the  Lord  so  far  as  may  be. 

I  made  a  visit  to  "Whittier's  a  fortnight  ago.  His 
sister  is  ill, —  quite  ill, —  I  think  with  a  painful  and 
enfeebling  disease,  they  fear  an  affection  of  the  spine. 
Her  spirits  are  excellent,  almost  unuaturall}*  so.  He 


BUSY   YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  403 

keeps  up,  too,  wonderfully.  I  called  at  Mrs.  Spald- 
ing's  also  ou  the  way  home,  and  found  her  in  the 
midst  of  house-cleaning,  but  she  has  learned  in  what 
soever  state  she  is  never  to  be  taken  aback.  I  have 
had  an  invitation  to  teach  in  a  female  seminary  in 
Andover.  Salary  not  large,  but  duties  not  onerous. 
Also  I  have  had  an  invitation  from  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Dio 
Lewis  to  visit  them.  Perhaps  I  shall  go  sometime, 
but  not  at  present.  I  have  too  much  to  do.  For  two 
Sundays  we  have  had  home-preaching.  I  was  at 
Amesbury  one  of  them  and  attended  the  Friends' 
meeting,  which  was  very  nice.  Nothing  was  said  the 
first  hour  or  so,  and  we  just  sat  in  the  sunshine  and 
had  a  "  good  time."  What  an  economical  way  of 
supporting  the  gospel  that  would  be,  and  how  much 
good  it  would  do  every  one  to  sit  quiet  an  hour  a  day, 
not  talk  at  all !  We  are  blessed  in  our  quiet  Sundays. 
We  get  the  truth  about  as  soon  as  you  do  after  all, 
and  not  under  half  so  deep  a  heap  of  rubbish.  I 
hope  for  victory,  but  I  have  been  running  through 
Fanny  Kemble's  "  Georgia  Journal,"  and  slavery  was 
so  utterly  infernal  a  thing  that  I  don't  know  whether 
this  nation  can  ever  be  purged  from  it  and  whether 
therefore  it  is  fit  to  live.  One  consolation  is  that,  bad 
as  it  is,  we  belong  to  the  best  part  of  it. 

Do  not  you  allow  yourself  to  be  over-excited  about 
all  these  things.  Washington  has  been  in  danger  of 
capture  too  many  times. 

[To  MR.  JAMES.] 

MAY  7,   1864. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  The  very  first  words  I  have  to 
say  to  you  are  to  apologize  for  my  unpardonable 
carelessness  in  giving  you  a  wrong  name.  I  beg  you 


404     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IX   LETTERS 

to  believe  that  it  was  not  because  I  had  not  taken  the 
trouble  to  charge  my  memory  with  your  name.  Hut 
I  know  a  real  Horace  James,  and  I  suppose  in  :in 
absence  of  mind  I  must  have  put  his  name  on  your 
letter,  though  I  was  not  aware  of  the  fact  until  you 
mentioned  it.  But  you  see  what  an  advantage  it  is 
to  be  so  distinguished  that  your  townsmen  need  only 
a  slight  hint  to  recognize  the  man  who  is  meant ! 

Also,  I  did  receive  your  letter,  the  one  you  sup 
posed  lost.  What  I  meant  about  forgetting  was  that 
as  it  was  three  or  more  weeks  since  I  had  shot  through 
your  atmosphere,  and  as  1  was  not  particularly  large 
or  brilliant,  you  might  have  supposed  that  this  next 
appearance  was  a  ne\v  comet  and  not  the  old  one  re 
turning  in  its  orbit.  So  I  wished  to  settle  the  ques 
tion  of  identity.  That  was  all. 

With  many  misgivings  I  send  you  the  book  of  which 
I  spoke.  I  hardly  know  whether  I  want  you  to  read 
it  or  not.  I  have  not  yet  read  it  myself  and  I  cannot 
tell  how  truly  it  expresses  my  present  opinions. 
Please  to  remember  that  much  of  it  was  written  at 
least  two  or  three,  and  some  of  it,  I  think,  as  many 
as  five  years  ago.  Do  not  suppose  I  say  this  to 
deprecate  your  unfavorable  criticism.  I  believe  I 
know  you  much  better  than  I  know  many  people  who 
call  me  "Abby,"  and  the  only  thing  I  fear  is  that  you 
will  find  in  it  a  disappointment  from  which  you  are 
too  generous  not  to  feel  pain.  So  I  pray  you  to 
look  fur  nothing  but  a  feeling  after  the  truth,  an 
occasional  grasping  of  it,  and  of  this  I  am  sure,  a 
very  steady  and  settled  desire  to  strengthen  the 
weak  hands,  confirm  the  feeble  knees,  comfort  the 
sorrowful  hearts,  and  beat  back  a  little  the  waves  of 
sore  doubt  and  difficulty  wherewith  formalism  besets 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  405 

Christ's  little  ones.  At  a  few  points  I  reckon  on 
your  sympathy,  and  everywhere  I  believe  you  are 
large  enough  to  make  allowances,  but  do  not  make  the 
mistake  of  supposing  that  I  expect  you  to  go  heart 
and  hand  with  me  through  thick  and  thin. 

I  "  guess"  you  made  a  mistake  in  your  last  letter 
and  answered  somebody  else's,  thinking  it  was  mine. 
But  I  shall  not  take  pains  to  correct  the  mistake.  I 
am  glad  any  letter  gave  you  pleasure,  whether  Lauuce- 
lot's  or  another's.  Happiness  does  not  come  in 
bowlders  generally,  but  in  pebbles,  and  so  I  think 
we  ought  all  to  be  very  thankful  when  we  receive 
such  a  pebble,  and  how  much  more  delightful  to  give 
one.  And  how  beautiful  it  is  that  things  are  so 
arranged  that  we  don't  have  to  do  good.  We  only 
have  to  go  about  our  business  and  the  good  does 
itself.  What  you  design  to  accomplish  of  beneficence 
often  fails.  It  is  what  flows  out  from  you  spontane 
ously,  the  virtue  that  goes  out  from  you  by  some 
casual  touch  that  makes  your  real  worth  in  life.  So 
I  suppose  every  inward  victory,  of  which  we  fancy  no 
one  knows,  has  its  outward  expression,  its  Te  Deurn, 
and  though  nobody  may  have  seen  the  struggle,  many 
may  wax  fat  on  the  fruits  of  the  peace.  The  little 
bits  of  moral  instruction  which  I  deal  out  to  you  I 
make  no  extra  charge  for,  so  you  need  not  be  restive 
under  them.  But  it  is  a  comfort  to  know  that  one 
need  not  wait  for  any  other  world  before  he  belongs 
to  the  Shining  Ones,  but  even  in  this  be  may  radiate 
light,  nnd  leave,  wherever  he  goes,  his  trail  of  sun 
shine.  Only  people  have  rather  come  not  to  think 
much  of  simple,  honest  sunshine,  but  want  some  far 
fetched,  unearthly,  supernatural  gleam  that  is  not  half 
real  and  never  produces  solid  results. 


406     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

There  was  au  idea  in  your  letter  —  and,  by  the  way, 
you  live  among  ideas,  do  you  not  ?  Now,  for  me  I 
have  —  and  so  have  most  of  my  contemporaries  so  far 
as  I  can  judge  —  experience  chiefly  with  fancies  and 
fragments.  I  sit  down  among  little  bits  of  broken 
glass,  sometimes  gay- colored  and  beautiful,  but  if 
ever  I  find  a  ruby  or  even  an  agate  among  them,  I 
call  in  my  friends  and  neighbors  to  rejoice  and  we 
have  a  bonfire  and  a  celebration.  But  you  write  a 
friendly  letter  and  lo  !  the  moment  I  open  it,  out  drop 
pearls  aud  diamonds,  all  set  and  fitly  joined  together. 
Well,  there  is  one  comfort.  If  you  have  been  mov 
ing  you  have  had  to  step  down  from  your  rainbow 
and  lock  up  your  precious  stones  and  give  all  your 
energies  to  the  furniture  and  to  keeping  your  temper. 
I  lay  particular  stress  on  the  temper  because  that  is 
my  weak  point.  We  have  been  house-cleaning,  which 
is  nearly  as  bad  as  moving.  But  then  it  is  nice  to 
feel  that  your  whole  house  has  had  its  baptism. 
The  dust  gathers  again,  but  you  are  better  for  the 
purification. 

But  what  I  was  going  to  say  was  that  you  had  an 
idea  in  your  letter  which,  when  I  saw,  I  coveted. 
Frederick  Schlegel  bought  one  once  of  his  brother 
William  for  a  flannel  waiscoat.  I  don't  suppose  I 
have  anything  that  would  be  of  value  to  you,  but  I 
cannot  relinquish  the  idea ;  it  fits  in  exactly  to  a  little 
niche  I  am  carving  out,  so  I  want  you  to  exercise 
your  benevolence  and  give  it  to  me.  "All  for  love 
and  nothing  for  reward."  If  you  don't  give  it  to  me 
you  will  do  mischief,  for  I  shall  certainly  steal  it.  I 
know  my  virtue  is  not  strong  enough  to  resist  the 
temptation,  aud  then  you  will  be  consumed  with  re 
morse  for  having  made  Israel  to  sin.  Do  you  submit 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  407 

gracefully  or  grumblingly  ?     For  submission  it  must 
be. 

Moral    (H.    J.    loquitur}  :  Never    leave  diamonds 
about  among  lapidaries. 

Thank  you  —  and  Mrs.  James  —  for  your  invita 
tion.     Do  you  think  I  shall  accept  it?     Not  the  least 
in  the  world.     Why  should  I  ?     It  would  not  do  any 
good.      Why   not   let   well    enough   alone?      Where 
people  meet  through  letters,  that  which  meets  is  really 
their  own  selves.     When  they  meet  in  person,  there 
are   so   many  impertinences  that  you  never  can  tell 
what  is  what.     I  will  not  say  never,  but  not  often, 
for  a  long  while,  and  sometimes  not  at  all.     At  least 
that  is  the  way  with  me.     The  more  you  see  me  the 
more  you  won't  know  me.     I  sit  in  my  room  and 
write  to  you.     It  is  my  very  own  self  speaking  to 
you,  without   embarrassment  or  distraction.     There 
isn't  any  world.     There   are  no  social  duties.     We 
might  as  well  be  pure  souls.     But  if  I  go  to  Ashburton 
Place,  I  must  see  that  my  bonnet  is  right,  and  I  shall 
have  dusted  my  dress,  and  you  will  have  to  stop  and 
brush  your  hair  before  you  come  down,  and  the  light 
will  shine  in  my  eyes  and  dazzle  me,  and  I  shall  drop 
my  handkerchief,  and  cannot  find  my  gloves,  and  so 
I  shall  be  altogether  very  uncomfortable,  and  there 
won't  be  any  me  at  all,  only  an  awkward  parcel  of 
dry  goods  that  never  had  any  perceptions.     I  don't 
object  to  incarnation.     I  think,  theoretically,  the  body 
is  the  friend  and  servant  of  the  soul,  and,  practically, 
too,  I  suppose  in  most  cases,  but  for  some  reason  or 
other,  in  the  Divine    arrangement,   I  was  made  dif 
ferent  from  other  people.     What  is  to  most  expres 
sion  is  to  me  an  incumbrance.     I  have  not  any  real 
medium    of    communication    with   my    kind    except 


408     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE!   IN   LETTERS 

through  my  pen  —  no  trustworthy  medium.  My  lips 
refuse 

"To  utter 
The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me," 

and  my  hand  has  no  cunning  to  work,  and  if  I  should 
come  and  see  you  I  should  be  only  a  miserable  and 
forlorn  woman.  While  in  my  own  domains  I  am 
monarch  of  all  I  survey.  So  do  not  attribute  my 
absenteeism  to  original  sin,  but  only  to  original  mis 
fortune,  and  believe  that  I  would  not  fail  to  avail  my 
self  of  your  kindness  if  I  did  not  know  that  it  would 
give  neither  of  us  the  smallest  satisfaction.  You 
would  not  believe  it  was  I,  and  I  should  not  myself  if 
I  did  not  know. 

Just  one  word  more  about  the  book.  Do  be 
lieve,  if  you  can  find  it  in  your  heart  to  do  so,  that  I 
am  better  than  it.  I  think  I  am  better  than  any  book 
I  ever  wrote,  or,  I  fear,  any  that  I  ever  shall  write. 
Nothing  satisfies  me.  I  catch  glimpses  of  the  beauti 
ful  Truth.  I  know  I  hear  her  voice  and  feel  her 
coming,  but  I  only  lay  hold  of  the  hem  of  her  robe  as 
she  passes  by,  and  I  have  but  a  fragment  and  a 
fragrance.  The  lovely  form  escapes  me.  Neverthe 
less,  I  can  do  no  otherwise  than  seek  her,  for  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  search  for  truth  is  better  than  the  pos 
session  of  all  other  treasures.  You  will  surely  not 
do  me  the  injustice  to  suppose  that  I  launch  my 
advice  and  opinions  from  any  assumed  superiority  of 
character  or  position.  In  fact,  I  do  not  know  that  I 
ever  analyzed  my  motives,  or  thought  much  about  it 
anyway.  I  write  because  I  do  write,  because  I  must 
write,  because  I  will  write.  Yet  nothing  that  I  have 
ever  written  has  seemed  to  me  adequate  when  it  was 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  409 

accomplished.     My  life  gives  me  great  joy,  but  also 
great  unrest. 

I  am  not  sure  that  what  I  have  said  will  indicate  to 
you  what  I  mean,  but  perhaps  your  own  experience, 
or  imagination,  may  help  you  to  the  meaning.  I 
have  talked  a  great  deal  about  myself  in  this  letter, 
but  then  what  is  the  use  of  writing  letters  if  you  can 
not  talk  about  yourself.  At  least  this  is  true,  that  it 
is  the  one  subject  in  the  world  of  which  I  know  more 
than  any  one  else,  and  one  in  which  I  must  confess 
that  I  feel  extremely  interested  ! 

It  is  the  most  charming  evening  possible,  and  I  am 
going  to  Boston  to-morrow,  and  to  Ashhurton  Place, 
which  I  know,  because  I  once  had  a  friend  there,  and 
I  shall  leave  a  parcel  in  the  front  entry  which  will  be 
this  letter,  and  a  book,  and  perhaps  something  else. 
So  will  you  please  stay  quietly  in  the  house  till  I  am 
safely  away  from  it.  I  suppose  I  might  send  a  lad 
with  it,  and  perhaps  I  will.  We  will  see. 
Good-night. 

Very  truly  yours, 

MARY  ABBT  DODGE. 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

MAY  18,   1864. 

It  seems  that  my  silly  question  has  given  you  a 
very  unnecessary  uneasiness.  But  I  only  put  it  to 
you  because  it  seemed  so  absurd,  and  I  thought  you 
would  enjoy  the  absurdity.  Nothing  is  farther  from 
my  mind  than  to  take  up  teaching  again.  Why,  Mr. 
Wood,  you  seem  quite  blind  to  the  fact  that  "I  am 
in  the  full  tide  of  a  successful  career "  !  !  !  !  I  am 
not  growing  rich  over-fast,  but  1  am  keeping  pace 


410     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

with  my  exertions.  I  have  all  the  money  that  I  need. 
My  books  have  brought  me  something  like  two  thou 
sand  dollars.  That  I  am  keeping  for  future  years. 
What  I  want  is  ten  thousand  dollars.  Mr.  Fields  laughs 
at  me,  but  if  I  live  and  have  my  health  I  shall  get  it, 
and  if  I  don't  live  I  shall  not  want  it,  and  if  I  do  not 
have  my  health  I  shall  not  blame  myself  for  not 
getting  it.  Do  not  suppose  that  I  am  setting  my  heart 
on  that  sum,  or  bending  my  energies  to  it,  or  u  skimp 
ing  "  myself  in  any  way  for  it.  But  I  want  to  be 
independent,  if  it  is  God's  will,  as  long  as  I  live,  and 
I  think  six  hundred  a  year  will  enable  me  to  live  in 
the  country,  as  long  as  I  do  live,  above  want,  and  in 
a  state  of  comparative  ease  and  elegance. 

The  money  that  I  have  received  and  have  not  spent 
is  in  government  bonds,  and  safely  deposited  in  Bos 
ton.  This  is  almost  entirely  what  I  have  received 
from  my  books.  The  magazine  papers  keep  me  in 
bread  and  butter  and  calicoes,  and  keep  me  "  hand 
somely."  I  don't  go  iuto  furs  and  diamonds  and  laces 
quite  so  much  as  I  might  like  if  I  had  the  purse  of 
Fortuuatus  in  my  pocket;  but  those  are  only  luxuries, 
and  I  have  everything  that  is  necessary,  and  I  treat 
myself  to  that  best  luxury  of  giving,  upon  every  occa 
sion.  The  sale  of  my  books  goes  on.  Mr.  Fields  spoke 
of  "  Country  Living,"  especially,  the  last  time  I  was 
there.  I  have  scarcely  any  hopes  at  all  about  my  new 
book,  only  that  I  shall  not  be  absolutely  torn  in  pieces. 
Private  criticisms  have  been  generally  favorable  hith 
erto,  but  when  it  is  published  Mr.  F.  and  I  agree 
that  the  dogs  of  war  will  be  let  loose.  I  am  quite  at 
ease  on  the  score  of  money.  I  mean  that  I  have  no 
anxiety  about  it.  My  disposition  to  become  the  pos 
sessor  of  ten  thousand  dollars  is  simply  that  I  may  be 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  41 1 

independent.  I  think  the  mere  fact  of  dependence 
has  such  a  tendency  to  lower  one's  standard  of  living, 
and  I  have  no  reason  to  suppose  myself  better  than 
my  kind.  So  I  pray  not  to  be  led  into  that  tempta 
tion.  Now  you  good,  benevolent,  kind  man,  do  not 
you  go  to  fretting  your  heart  thinking  that  I  am  poor. 
It  is  a  pity  that  I  am  not,  but  I  am  not.  I  feel  rich, 
I  do  indeed. 

It  is  pleasant  to  receive  things  from  your  friends, 
and  still  more  pleasant  to  give  them.  If  I  could  give 
tilings  to  my  friends  I  should  be  much  better  satis 
fied  to  receive  gifts  from  them,  but  I  have  not  the 
pretty  art  of  making  knick-knacks,  and  I  am  so  out 
of  the  world,  out  of  this  and  absorbed  in  another,  that 
I  don't  know  what  is  going.  I  applied  to  Whittier  in 
this  dilemma,  and  he  said  I  could  not  give  to  the  many 
that  gave  to  me,  of  course,  but  that  my  writings  made 
me  friends,  and  that  probably  they  1'elt  that  I  had 
done  them  so  much  good  and  given  them  so  much 
pleasure  therein,  that  it  was  a  great  pleasure  for  them 
to  show  a  token  of  it,  and  I  could  do  a  good  turn  to 
some  one  else.  So  he  comforted  me,  and  I  mean 
always  to  "give  to  every  one  that  asketh "  of  me  in 
charity,  if  so  be  I  may  return  to  the  poor  a  part  of 
the  benefit  which  the  rich  do  to  me. 

My  time  is  fully  occupied,  and  more  than  occupied. 
I  have  continued  calls  in  writing  which  I  am  forced 
to  decline.  I  could  earn  much  more  money  than  I 
now  earn,  but  I  should  do  it  at  the  expense  of  both 
my  character  and  my  reputation  as  a  writer.  I  pre 
fer  to  do  nothing  which  shall  not  improve  myself. 
P^xcellence  is  far  more  valuable  to  me  than  money. 
I  want  a  reputation,  but  I  want  it  to  be  for  qualities 
which  may  commend  themselves  to  the  best  people. 


412     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

I  have  every  encouragement.  Mr.  Fields  is  contin 
ually  encouraging  —  I  should  perhaps  say  rather  than 
urging  —  me  forward,  which  of  course  he  would  not 
do  if  he  were  not  in  a  degree  satisfied  with  me.  He 
says  very  fine  things  of  my  papers,  and  he  is  con 
stantly  asking  for  more.  He  gets  my  books  up  him 
self, —  proposes  to  have  them  as  books,  I  mean,  —  and 
is  strenuous  that  I  write  only  for  them,  to  which  I  am 
myself  also  as  strongly  inclined. 

My  circle  of  friends  comprises  some  of  the  very 
nicest  people  in  the  world,  and  I  have  directly  and  by 
roundabout  ways  very  honoring  praise  from  people 
whose  mere  attention  would  be  no  small  compliment. 
I  am  sure  you  will  not  do  me  the  injustice  of  thinking 
that  I  say  this  by  way  of  boasting.  I  only  say  it  in 
a  mercantile  way  just  to  ease  your  mind,  and  because 
I  know  you  will  find  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  it. 
Of  course  I  have  also  a  great  deal  of  censure,  but  my 
nice  things  so  entirely  outnumber  and  outweigh  my 
disagreeable  ones,  that  the  latter  are  a  sheer  and  clear 
benefit  to  me.  "  I  speak  as  a  fool,  but  ye  have  com 
pelled  me."  I  could  not  ask  greater  success,  consid 
ering  the  capital  I  work  on.  I  only  wish  that  I  were 
more  worthy  of  the  regard  which  —  I  will  not  say 
I  have  won,  but  which  generosity  has  bestowed 
upon  me.  But  you  may  be  sure  I  would  impoverish 
you  and  every  friend  I  have  in  the  world  before  I 
would  go  back  to  teaching  again  ! 

Does  Nelly  O'C.  mean  Mr.  Henry  James'  book 
"  Substance  and  Shadow  "  ?  If  so,  I  can  tell  her  that 
I  read  the  first  part  in  a  rather  bewildered  manner, 
but  as  I  went  on  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  struck 
a  bed  of  primitive  foundation  granite.  There  are 
parts  which  I  do  not  understand,  and  there  are  pass- 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  413 

ages  which  I  would  have  altered,  but  to  my  thinking 
it  holds  solid  truths  that  refresh  and  rest  my  very  soul. 
You  must  excuse  the  egotism  of  this  letter,  but  you 
know  it  was  all  on  your  account.  I  took  a  slice  right 
out  of  my  afternoon  on  purpose  to  relieve  your  mind. 
What  gratitude  ought  you  not  to  feel !  Was  gratitude 
one  of  the  Apostolic  virtues?  Truly  yours, 

M.  A.  D. 

[To  MR.  FRENCH.] 

JUNE  3,   1864. 

Isn't  it  beautiful  now?  I  have  been  out  and 
watered  all  my  plants.  I  stood  and  looked  at  that 
little  square  bit  of  land,  and  thought  what  was  the 
use  of  taking  such  a  world  of  trouble  with  it  when  here 
is  this  whole  round  globe  spread  out  before  me,  and 
behind  me,  and  on  every  side  of  me,  —  more  beauty 
than  I  can  take  in,  though  I  stand  looking  from 
sunrise  to  sunset  and  all  night  long.  How  foolish 
to  stake  out  a  square  yard  and  devote  yourself  to  it, 
when  every  hill  and  valley  laughs  you  to  scorn  in  in 
solent  rivalry,  and  an  old  wall  with  a  blackberry- 
vine  is  more  graceful,  more  picturesque  than  anything 
which  your  own  hand  —  my  hand  I  mean  —  can  train 
with  infinite  pains.  I  wish  I  had  nothing  in  the  world 
to  do  but  be  out-doors  all  the  time,  and  look  and  listen. 
The  trees  are  all  abloom,  and  knee  deep  in  lush  grass, 
the  air  is  filled  with  the  summer  snow  of  petals,  and 
the  birds  are  holding  high  carnival.  Everything  is  so 
busy,  and  my  busy-ness  is  to  see  it.  Life  is  in  full 
career,  and  I  think  people  ought  to  stand  aside  and 
let  it  work.  I  buried  a  chicken  to-day  under  a  sod,  a 
poor  little  thing  that  just  nipped  open  a  bit  of  shell 
about  as  big  as  a  five-cent  piece  —  an  ancient  coin  in 


414     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

use  among  the  Egyptians.  Then  he  was  tired  and 
gave  it  up.  But  what  I  admired  was,  how  beautifully 
he  was  packed.  His  little  head  and  feet  and  wings 
were  folded  so  compactly,  there  was  no  crowding  and 
no  room  to  spare.  There  are  two  little  doves,  too, 
under  the  barn  eaves,  and  I  can  climb  up  and  watch 
them,  little  horrid  jelly-things  with  holes  for  ears,  and 
breathing  all  over.  The  mother-dove  turns  into  a  fury 
and  beats  me  with  her  wings  prodigiously,  but  I  am 
determined  to  see  how  she  manages.  Now  I  suppose 
I  might  as  well  stop  here  as  go  on  all  night.  In  fact 
there  are  so  many  things  happening  now  that  it  seems 
a  pity  to  waste  time  on  words.  It  seems  to  me  as  if 
everything  is  made  over  new  in  the  spring  and  every 
spring  is  a  new  astonishment.  Every  March  I  believe 
the  grass  will  never  grow  again,  and  every  May  it 
waves  like  the  sea. 

I  think  it  is  boy-slaughter  in  the  first  degree  to 
wake  boys  in  the  morning.  I  rather  think  Nature 
knows  when  her  children  have  slept  long  enough,  and 
does  not  need  any  lawyers  to  issue  a  writ  of  manda 
mus.  "What  a  writ  of  mandamus  is  I  know  no  more 
than  your  famous  "  forty-year-old-unborn-hereditary 
infant,"  but  I  wanted  some  kind  of  law-Latin  to  vindi 
cate  my  legal  abilities  and  learning,  so  I  took  that. 

And  I  thank  you,  samp  is  not  cracked  corn.  Have 
I  been  living  on  it  all  my  life  to  be  told  by  a  little 
New  Hampshire  judge  that  I  don't  know  what  it  is? 
Sir,  samp  is  not  cracked  corn.  It  is  as  whole  as  my 
heart.  I  will  not  send  to  Pierce's  for  a  bag  of 
hominy.  My  sister  gets  what  they  call  samp  in 
Boston,  and  comes  home  crying  aloud  for  the  real 
article,  which  is  one-third  lye,  one-third  ashes,  one- 
third  potash,  and  the  rest  corn  and  milk. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  415 

JUKE  7,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  JAMES  :  Now  we  are  coming  to  blows  ! 
I  sailed  down  your  letter  as  smoothly  and  as  serenely 
as  possible,  the  sun  shining,  the  flowers  abloom  on 
both  banks,  the  birds  singing  in  the  tree-tops  —  and 
suddenly  comes  a  crash !  I  struck  a  snag,  but  you 
need  not  think  I  am  going  to  give  up  quietly  and  sink 
without  a  struggle.  So  here  is  the  struggle : 

The  only  reason  why  I  have  the  smallest  modesty 
in  stating  my  views  is,  that  I  am  not  sure  I  under 
stand  yours.  A  man  who  begins  his  book  by  turning 
the  world  upside  down  must  be  approached  warily. 
It  may  be  that  in  your  book  you  have  explained  away 
every  objection  that  I  shall  advance,  and  there  a 
second  advancement  may  seem  an  impertinence,  — but, 
as  I  have  intimated  before,  I  did  not  then  understand 
the  book  so  well  as  I  think  I  should  now.  I  am  going 
to  read  it  again  as  soon  as  that  addition  comes  out. 
But  with  all  the  enlightenment  it  may  give  I  dare  say 
there  will  be  plenty  left  beyond  my  comprehension, 
and  all  the  intelligence  I  can  plunder  you  of  through 
the  medium  of  letters  will  be  so  much  clear  gain ! 

You  say  ' '  soliciting  and  expecting  a  personal, 
instead  of  a  purely  spiritual  salvation  at  His  hands." 
But  may  not  salvation  be  personal  and  spiritual? 
What  is  spirit?  Is  it  not  as  personal  to  me  as  any 
thing?  More  personal  than  anything?  Is  not  my 
spirit  more  truly  me,  more  truly  personal  than  any 
thing  else?  You  say,  "'We  all  of  us  unhesitatingly 
assume  the  truth  of  our  personal  relations  to  God  and 
suppose  that  any  improvement  in  our  intercourse  with 
Him  must  come  from  some  modifications  of  those 
relations  ;  whereas  in  truth  our  natural  personality  is 
merely  a  stepping-stone  of  His  towards  the  great  per- 


416     GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

sonality  of  the  race  as  represented  or  constituted  by 
society,  is  at  best  a  temporary  purchase  of  His  upon 
the  associated  or  public  consciousness."  Do  you 
mean  by  this  that  our  natural  personality  is  or  ought 
ever  to  be  merged  in  the  great  personality  of  the  race, 
that  our  private  consciousness  is  ever  to  be  lost,  in 
this  or  in  any  world,  in  a  public  consciousness? 
Because,  if  you  do,  I  do  not  agree  with  you.  It  seems 
to  me  all  one  with  annihilation.  I  would  jnst  as  soon 
have  no  life  at  all  as  to  have  no  conscious,  separate, 
individual  life.  What  possible  comfort  can  there  be 
in  creeping  through  eternity  as  an  infinitesimal  part  of 
one  huge  centipede  called  society.  I  want  to  be  my 
own  self,  clip  and  clear,  and  if  I  cannot  be  that  I 
would  rather  not  be  anything.  I  don't  believe  you 
mean  this,  but  if  you  don't,  what  do  you  mean?  You 
understand,  please,  I  believe  in  the  advancement,  in 
the  growth,  in  the  purification  of  society  —  but  I  hold 
it  is  to  be  done  not  by  annihilating,  but  by  elevating 
the  individuals  who  compose  it.  By  working  on  you 
and  trying  to  make  a  good  Christian  man  of  you,  I 
am  doing  far  more  for  society  than  I  could  by 
attempting  to  destroy  your  consciousness  and  individ 
uality  and  knead  you  somehow  into  the  general, mass  ! 
You  say,  "•  Nothing  is  more  unhandsome  in  us  than 
the  consciousness  of  our  being  tvell  pleasing  in,  our 
proper  persons  to  God."  Practically  I  suppose  that 
must  be  admitted  to  be  true  of  most  grown-up  per 
sons.  But  must  it  be  true?  Is  it  not  our  sin  and 
shame  that  it  is  true  ?  Is  there  any  inherent  neces 
sity  laid  upon  us?  I  suppose  a  rose,  a  bird,  a  baby 
are  well  pleasing  to  God.  He  takes  pleasure  in  the 
little  child  playing  on  the  floor.  He  takes  pleasure 
in  everything  which  He  has  made  which  remains 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  417 

very  good.  He  loves  to  see  people  as  strong  and 
healthy  as  He  meant  them  to  be.  He  takes  pleas 
ure  when  they  cultivate  the  mind  and  all  the  powers 
which  He  has  given  them.  He  is  pleased  when 
they  resist  temptation,  or  are  kind,  and  loving,  and 
charitable,  and  do  what  .He  wants  them  to  do  for 
love  of  Him  or  love  of  each  other,  isn't  He  ?  I  sup 
pose  there  are  few  of  us  who  could  say  that  we  always 
do  this,  but  if  we  ever  do  do  it  —  if  we  ever  feel  our 
hearts  aglow  with  love  to  Him  and  purpose  to  do 
right,  is  it  vanity,  is  it  vanity  to  believe  then  that  we 
are  pleasing  to  Him  —  that  He  is  pleased  with  us? 
May  we  not  be  so  at  one  with  Him  that  there  shall  be  no 
jar  in  our  relations,  "I  in  them  and  they  in  me"? 
You  see  I  do  believe  in  our  personal  relations  to  God 
—  not  to  the  exclusion,  but  the  inclusion  of  the  whole 
human  race.  If  God  be  not  personal  to  us,  how  can 
we  love  Him ;  I  cannot  thrill  out  to  an  abstraction. 
It  seems  to  me  Christ  came  to  assure  us  of  God's 
personality  ;  that  we  might  have  something  definite  to 
take  hold  of.  There  is  no  "  self-complacency  " — to 
go  back  a  little  —  in  feeling  ourselves  in  harmony 
with  the  Divine,  for  the  more  you  feel  so  the  more 
you  feel  that  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  you  to  will  and 
to  do  of  His  good  pleasure.  Maybe  that  is  just  what 
you  mean.  I  do  assure  you,  Mr.  James,  that  I  feel 
as  if  I  were  imposing  upon  your  good  nature  to  go 
blundering  along  as  I  do.  It  seems  as  if  you  have  a 
right  to  demand  that  I  shall  understand  you  better 
than  I  probably  do,  and  if  you  think  that  your  book 
really  does  make  this  all  clear,  then  do  not  you  by 
any  means  go  and  write  it  all  over  again,  but  simply 
say  it  is  in  the  book  and  I  will  unearth  it  there. 

The  theory  which  you  propound  explanatory  of  my 


418     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

reluctance  to  meeting  you  is  very  good  as  a  theory, 
but  you  are  travelling  down  toward  the  centre  of  the 
earth  to  find  something  that  lies  on  the  surface.  In 
fact,  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  cause  or  reason  for 
such  reluctance.  At  least  I  do  not  know  that  I  am 
conscious  of  any.  It  is  simply  an  instinct.  It  is 
simply  that  when  I  should  hear  you  coming  up  the 
steps,  my  heart  —  the  actual  physical  auricle  and 
ventricle  one,  I  mean  —  would  of  a  sudden  beat  so 
hard  that  I  could  not  speak  perhaps,  and  not  breathe 
for  a  minute  and  not  have  the  least  power  to  do  any 
thing  but  keep  the  life  in  me.  And  I,  perhaps, 
should  not  get  quite  over  it  all  the  time  you  would 
see  me,  and  should  say  and  do  what  was  really  un 
natural  to  me,  and  should  fail  to  see  the  point  of 
what  was  said  to  me  or  to  understand  things  which 
really  do  come  within  the  scope  of  my  powers.  I 
don't  believe  such  simple  material  facts  need  any 
explanation,  do  they?  If  we  should  ever  lose  this 
"  nimbus  of  flesh  "  I  think  I  should  feel  differently. 
If  I  could  only  be  my  own  proper  self,  if  I  could 
only  meet  you  as  I  really  am,  I  should  not  mind. 
But  however  that  may  be,  pray  believe  me  that  there 
is  at  least  no  want  of  faith  in  you.  I  trust  you  en 
tirely.  You  have  already  shown  a  delicacy  most 
rare,  and  I  do  not  believe  it  would  be  possible  for  you 
to  trespass  upon  me.  The  only  way  in  which  you 
cause  me  "the  slightest  embarrassment"  would  he 
simply  in  being  a  person  at  all !  Do  not  suppose  it 
possible  that  I  willingly  dwell  on  these  facts.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  should  be  wrong  in  saying  that  they 
are  the  most  painful  of  my  life.  It  is  the  one  bond 
age  that  chains  me,  and  death  alone  can  deliver  me 
from  the  body  of  this  death.  But  I  speak  of  it 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  419 

rather  than  that  you  should  suppose  it  to  be  anything 
in  yourself  which  causes  the  reluctance,  that  I  fear 
to  find  in  you  anything  below  the  highest.  Your 
instinctive  reverence  is  more  grateful  than  words  can 
say.  I  shall  indeed  be  much  disappointed  if  you  fail 
me.  Undoubtedly,  like  all  the  rest  of  us,  you  have 
your  faults.  I  dare  say  you  are  occasionally  unrea 
sonable.  Very  possibly  you  are  depraved  enough 
to  fret  sometimes  at  the  "little  wife"  who  is  twice 
as  good  as  your  High  Mightiness,  perhaps  you  are 
cross  to  the  children  and  too  particular  about  trifles, 
though  for  all  these  things  you  are  heartily  sorry 
afterwards  and  atone  for  them  as  far  as  possible  by 
increased  gentleness.  I  make  no  doubt  you  have 
half-a-dozen  hobby-horses  and  pet  weaknesses  and 
all  that,  but  I  am  sure  you  try  to  be  good  and  keep 
your  banner  out  of  the  mud,  and  I  am  sure  that 
your  idea  of  life  and  worth  is  high  and  high-aiming. 

You  anticipate  the  time  when  I  shall  be  a  "  serene, 
placid,  lovely  old  lady."  But  that  time  will  never 
come  even  if  I  live  to  be  an  old  lady  at  all.  Serene- 
ness  will  never  come  to  me  in  this  world.  Yet  I 
have  such  possibilities  of  calm  !  But  it  would  be 
very  selfish  to  sigh  for  quiet  when  it  is  a  most  un 
deserved  blessing  that  one  is  permitted  to  work,  to 
be  a  co-worker  with  God.  I  would  be  willing  to  be 
turbulent  all  my  life,  to  dwell  in  the  very  teeth  of  the 
tempest  rather  than  be  stagnant.  And  for  all  the 
turbulence,  I  feel  somewhere,  very  deep  in,  a  fountain 
of  peace,  unsealed,  but  to  be,  one  day,  and  inexhaust 
ible.  Meanwhile  faith  is  the  substance  of  things 
hoped  for. 

Perhaps  some  day  I  shall  get  into  your  thought 
enough  to  be  able  to  talk  rationally  and  to  the  pur- 


420    GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

pose,  and  then  I  shall  be  glad  to  talk  upon  these 
matters  instead  of  writing,  but  as  it  is,  I  am  afraid 
I  should  stumble  at  every  step  and  weary  your 
patience.  So  don't  you  think  it  will  be  better  to  con 
fine  ourselves  to  artillery  practice  at  present,  and 
not  come  to  a  hand-to-hand  conflict.  And  yet  I 
should  really  like  to  have  you  come  down  to  Hamil 
ton.  It  is  very  pleasant  here  these  bright  June 
days.  Do  you  think  you  could  forget  that  you  ever 
wrote  to  me  —  make  believe  you  never  heard  of  me 
—  know  nothing  about  me  only  that  your  grand 
father  was  my  great  aunt's  first  cousin,  and  you  would 
like  to  explore  the  vilhige  where  she  lived?  Should 
you  like  some  pleasant  day  to  come  down  at  noon 
and  sit  in  the  sunshine  or  walk  over  the  hills  or  drive 
about  the  country  and  you  keep  talking  all  the  time, 
and  I  not  speak  a  word  ?  I  should  like  it  very  much, 
but  then  you  see  it  would  be  very  selfish  in  me,  for  I 
am  afraid  you  would  not  get  out  of  the  country  so 
much  good  as  I  should  get  out  of  you. 

Very  truly  yours, 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

JUNE  <>,  1864. 

Mr.  Norris  and  Jerry  are  in  the  100  days'  Volun 
teers  at  New  Bedford.  George  Norris  is  Assistant 
Lieutenant  of  Engineers,  I  think  it  is,  in  a  gunboat. 
Mr.  Tibbets  son  was  taken  prisoner  in  one  of  the 
late  battles  under  Butler.  Mr.  Tressel's  son — lives 
on  the  old  Robert  Dodge  place  —  was  wounded  in  the 
Cold  Harbor  fight. 

Mr.  Gage  wants  me  to  go  to  Germany  with  them 
next  winter.  They  will  spend  two  months  in  England. 
Cannot  tell  till  I  know  whether  you  will  be  here  or 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  421 

not.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fields  were  going  to  spend  the 
day  with  me  yesterday,  but  they  had  word  that  her 
brother  was  a  prisoner  in  Gordons ville,  and  he  must 
try  what  could  be  done  towards  effecting  an  exchange. 
Dr.  Smith's  farm  was  all  planted,  except  a  few  white 
beans  which  were  to  come  up  in  the  fall  and  make 
them  rich.  They  had  sold  over  $200  worth  of  eggs 
to  buy  sugar  to  sweeten  the  rhubarb.  We,  too,  have 
a  glut  of  rhubarb  and  a  dearth  of  sugar.  Whittier 
writes  me  that  his  sister  has  been  very  sick  since  I 
was  there,  and  he  thought  she  was  rapidly  failing, 
but  he  hopes  now  she  is  really  better.  Una  Haw 
thorne  wrote  me  a  very  nice  letter  after  her  father 
died.  She  said  for  his  sake  they  could  not  mourn.  I 
saw  Hawthorne  when  I  was  in  Boston  about  a  week 
before  he  died.  He  had  come  there  to  start  on  his 
journey  with  Pierce.  He  was  very  saul}-  changed 
since  I  made  that  most  delightful  visit  at  his  house  a 
year  ago. 

JUNE  21,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  WOOD  :  I  have  no  business  to  be 
writing  to  you  now,  but  since  you  must  needs  go  and 
get  up  a  sunstroke,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  leave 
my  beaten  track  and  go  off  in  a  tangent  towards 
Washington.  Now  I  pray  to  know  if  you  went  out 
doors  at  noonday  and  sat  on  the  curb-stone?  I  do 
not  see  what  other  way  there  was  for  you  to  expose 
yourself  to  such  an  infliction.  You  must  have  wooed 
the  sun  with  malice  aforethought.  Quod  erat  demon 
strandum.  I  dare  say  you  did  it  partly  on  purpose 
that  you  might  have  au  excuse  for  going  over  your 
books  and  papers.  Years  ago  Dr.  —  —  used  to  make 
my  eyes  heavy  with  unshed  tears  by  his  pathetic  anni 
versary  sermons,  wherein  his  own  approaching  with- 


422    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

drawal  would  be  feelingly  predicted.  His  people  bore 
his  prophecies  with  an  equanimity  that  astonished  me, 
but  they  were  right.  What  is  the  case  to  day?  Dr. 

—  has  lived  long  enough  since  then  to  turn  his 
parish  upside  down  with  "  rage,  resentment,  and  de 
spair,"  played  witch-work  with  the  colleague  whom 
they  had  provided  for  him,  forced  him  to  resign, 
resigned  himself,  and  is  at  this  moment,  I  doubt  not, 
an  eye-sore  to  the  people.  Similarly  you,  Mr.  George 
Wood,  in  spite  of  all  your  wills  and  your  post-mortem 
arrangements,  will  live  to  call  up,  on  at  least  twenty 
separate  occasions,  my  unmitigated  wrath,  and  on 
occasions  without  number  will  stir  me  up  to  small 
modified  resentments,  on  all  which  occasions  you  will 
be  in  the  wrong,  and  I  in  the  right,  though  you  will 
uever  confess  it.  Still,  notwithstanding  the  many 
years  that  I  trust  lie  before  you,  it  seems  to  me  that 
I  would  not,  as  a  general  thing,  take  my  after-dinner 
naps  on  the  curb-stone. 

Your  copy  of  "  Stumbling  Blocks,"  if  you  care  for 
such  an  implement  of  agriculture,  goes  with  this  let 
ter.  If  the  public  will  only  take  half  the  delight  in 
hanging,  drawing,  and  quartering  the  author  that  you 
do  in  prophesying  such  an  event,  "Eyes,  look  your 
last." 

Your  arrangement  of  your  papers  reminds  me  to 
ask  whether  you  keep  my  letters.  If  so,  what  do  you 
do  with  them  ?  I  wish  you  would  bring  them  on  with 
you  when  you  come  this  summer,  and  at  any  rate 
arrange  them  so  that  in  case  of  your  death,  or  of  mine, 
no  wrong  hands  could  touch  them.  People  are  so 
careless  of  propriety  where  their  curiosity  is  concerned 
that  one  cannot  be  too  careful.  I  would  like  best  to 
have  you  bring  them  to  me,  that  I  may  have  them 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  423 

under  my  own  hand.  Yours,  for  the  last  two  years, 
I  have  in  apple-pie  order.  The  former  years  are  pre 
served,  but  in  the  higgledy-piggledy  style  of  archi 
tecture.  I  mean  to  arrange  them  this  summer  accord 
ing  to  the  dates.  The  weather  is  lovely,  but  very 
dry,  and  I  spend  all  my  spare  time  in  watering  my 
garden.  I  am  very  well,  and  so  would  you  be  if  you 
would  remember  about  the  curb-stones. 

Yours  most  truly, 

M.  A.  D. 

[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

JULY  1,  1864. 

It  seems  to  me  that  two  summers  ago  I  was  on  the 
top  of  Agamenticus  with  somebody  who  was  visiting 
the  John  P.  Hales,  and  who  could  not  go  somewhere, 
or  could  not  stay  longer,  because  she  was  to  be  at  Mr. 
French's  wedding  at  such  a  time.  I  wonder  if  it  was 
not  this  same  B.  B.  who  writes  from  his  iron  Para 
dise.  I  return  his  letter  with  many  thanks  for  the 
glimpse  into  a  pleasant  home,  and  for  the  flavor  of  peas 
and  strawberries,  though  the  cream  and  butter  story  is 
rather  suspicious.  Nevertheless,  this  sunshiny  grove- 
green,  fountain-playing,  shadow-flickei'ing  letter  gave 
me  a  pang.  Why,  do  you  suppose?  It  was  that 
mattress.  I  don't  suppose  any  one  thing  has  wor 
ried  me  more  than  what  should  I  do  to  be  house 
keeping?  To  be  sure,  I  have  never  been  required  to 
keep  house,  and  of  all  the  things  that  may  happen  to 
me  that  stands  in  the  dimmest  distance.  Neverthe 
less,  when  any  housekeeping  feat  is  announced  I  feel 
a  shudder  of  incompetency  through  my  inmost  frame. 
Never,  never  could  I  undertake  to  pull  a  mattress  to 
pieces,  and  pick  a  barnful  of  hair  and  make  it  over 


424     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

into  sixty  dollars.  I  believe,  however,  — I  think  I  do, 
at  any  rate, —  that  men's  and  women's  tastes  are  one  by 
nature,  and  different  only  through  education,  habit, 
custom.  I  suppose  if  I  had  been  brought  up  to 
housekeeping  I  should  have  liked  it,  but  having  lived 
a  sort  of  man's  life,  I  look  upon  all  the  details  of 
ordinary  woman-life  as  wearisome  and  intolerable 
drudgery.  Men  have  been  suffered  to  take  their  ease 
in  their  inn  till  the  world  has  come  to  think  it  a  cus 
tom  ordained  of  God,  and  women  have  so  long  "run 
the  machine"  that  —  ditto.  But  as  soon  as  one  is 
freed  a  little  from  that  routine,  lo  !  she  shares  all  a 
man's  repugnance  to  it,  and  if  a  man  had  been  trained 
in  a  kitchen  and  a  laundry,  doubtless  he  would  expect 
nothing  better.  Which  proves  that  the  difference 
between  the  male  and  female  life  is  one  of  custom 
and  not  of  nature. 

In  one  of  your  letters  you  ask  me  when  a  baby's 
soul  comes  into  the  body.  I  don't  know  as  a  general 
thing,  but  my  soul  came  to  me  when  I  was  fourteen 
years  old,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief. 
That  is,  I  began  to  be  born  then,  but  I  don't  suppose 
I  shall  be  fully  out  of  the  shell  as  long  as  I  live  — 
(pardon  the  slight  mixture  of  races).  The  fact  is 
that  the  universe  exists  layer  within  layer.  The  soul 
has  no  end  of  skins,  as  far  as  I  can  see.  You  burst 
one  integument  and  are  in  a  new  world  —  ultimate. 
But  after  a  while  you  burst  another  and  are  in 
another  world.  The  world  is  constantly  new  created. 
The  robin's  world  is  not  my  world.  It  is  only  this 
spring  that  I  have  been  born  into  a  chicken's  world. 
Now  I  look  at  life  from  a  chicken's  stand-point. 
Indian  meal  wears  a  new  aspect.  Eggs  and  fresh 
hay  and  barns  have  put  on  different  features  and 


BUSY   YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  425 

assumed  different  relations.  With  every  added  ex 
perience  I  suppose  your  plummet  sinks  lower  and 
lower  into  the  ever  unfathomable  depths  ! 

For  my  flower  garden,  my  ambition  never  went 
beyond  having  flowers  for  the  house,  but  then  if  you 
are  going  to  plant,  you  might  as  well  plant  in  curves 
as  straight  lines.  They  are  more  pleasing  to  the  eye 
and  they  give  flowers  just  as  well.  It  is  very  dread 
ful  to  have  a  sound  of  battle  in  the  land  and  great 
destruction,  but  is  it  any  more  for  us  than  slavery 
for  the  negroes?  Will  all  the  physical  agony  and 
mental  torture  produced  by  these  three  years  of  war 
balance  the  pain  of  a  hundred  years  of  slavery?  In 
all  the  slaughter  I  seem  to  hear  an  awful  voice  ring 
ing  out  the  awful  command,  "The  cup  which  she 
hath  filled,  fill  to  her  double."  It  is  sad  to  know 
that  the  innocent  are  perishing  for  the  guilty,  but 
thus  it  has  been  and  shall  be,  under  the  sun  —  and 
what  did  Smith  O'Brien  say  ?  — 

"  Whether  on  the  gallows  high, 

Or  in  the  battle's  van, 
The  fittest  place  for  man  to  die 
Is  where  he  dies  for  man." 

JULY  6,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  JAMES  :  Is  it  a  month,  or  a  year, 
or  ten  years,  since  I  wrote  you?  So  many  things 
have  happened  since  that  it  might  be  a  century. 
What  a  strange  thing  is  this  writing!  Two  people 
live  their  lives  so  entirely  separate,  with  interests  and 
acquaintances,  experiences  and  plans  so  entirely 
apart,  and  then  each  leaves  his  world  for  a  moment 
and  knocks  at  the  gate  of  the  other,  and  they  ex 
change  greetings,  compare  notes,  and  are  up  and 


426     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

away  again,  sailing  through  unknown  skies.  Yet  the 
acquaintance  of  letters  is  likely  to  be  a  much  more 
real  thing  than  the  acquaintance  of  external  relations. 
I  don't  believe  your  grocer  or  your  milkman,  and 
perhaps  your  next-door  neighbor,  knows  you  half  as 
well  as  I.  Perhaps  they  know  what  you  arc,  and  I, 
what  yon  will  become,  I  am  not  quite  sure.  I  must 
think  about  it.  The  people  whose  life  satisfies  and 
strengthens  me  are  my  kinsfolk  and  acquaintance 
whether  1  find  them  ringing  the  doorbell  or  lying  in 
wait  for  me  on  the  book-shelf.  How  came  you  to 
write  to  me  in  the  first  place?  I  mean,  how  came 
you  to  know  there  was  any  me?  and  where  I  lived? 
I  heard  them  all  talking  about  you  in  Concord  last 
summer, — Emerson  and  Alcott  and  the  rest,  —  but  I 
did  not  know  you,  and  I  had  not  read  your  book, 
and  so  I  watched  the  men  and  forgot  what  they  said. 
So  much  sense  is  there  in  meeting  people.  Q.  E.  D. 

If  I  am  abrupt  never  mind.  There  is  much  to  say 
and  why  should  we  waste  time  in  introductions?  You 
say  "we  are  naturally  mortal,  not  immortal."  You 
do  not  mean  that  our  inward  soul-life  is  mortal,  do 
you  ?  You  do  not  mean  that  without  redemption  man 
would  be  absolutely  annihilated?  That  men  and 
horses  and  cows  were  all  included  in  the  same  fate 
till  God  took  upon  himself  the  form  of  man  and  by 
that  selection  made  man  forever  after  immortal.  If 
you  do  not  mean  that,  I  think  you  have  used  words 
that  seem  to  mean  it.  If  you  do  mean  it,  on  what 
grounds  do  you  say  it?  It  is  very  good  discipline 
for  you  to  write  to  me  ;  I  represent  the  great  "  many," 
and  you  the  great  few,  and  when  I  keep  pulling  you 
down  to  verbal  explanations,  instead  of  pouting,  you 
must  smile,  and  be  thankful  for  somebody  who  will 


BUSY   YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  427 

make  you  interpret  yourself  to  the  world  you  are  to 
benefit.  I  am  as  intelligent  as  the  general  mass,  and 
if  I  do  not  comprehend,  what  shall  the  stupid  do  and 
wherewithal  shall  they  be  enlightened?  I  should 
think  we  might  fall  short  of  God's  immortal  fellow 
ship  and  yet  be  immortal. 

Then  again,  while  I  admit  everything  you  say 
regarding  the  Divine  origin  of  every  good  and  perfect 
gift,  I  can  but  think  that  you  sometimes  confound 
pleasure  with  pride.  I  think  yon  are  entirely  and 
exhaustively  right  in  defining  spiritual  fellowship  with 
God  and  in  describing  His  object  of  action ;  but  is 
His  utter  beneficence  incompatible  with  a  conscious 
ness  of  Himself,  His  loveliness,  His  perfection?  If 
your  natural  goodness  is  every  moment  a  Divine 
creation  so  much  the  more  may  you  take  pleasure. 
A  beautiful  woman  is  a  Divine  creation.  No  credit  is 
due  to  her  for  her  symmetry  and  texture  and  color, 
the  gloss  of  her  hair  or  the  gleam  of  her  eyes.  So 
much  the  more  is  it  not  vanity  but  an  appreciation  of 
the  beautiful  for  her  to  enjoy  her  own  beauty.  To 
be  vain  or  proud  is  a  very  different  thing  from  taking 
pleasure.  You  need  not  claim  the  least  credit  for 
your  good  qualities,  for  they  are  not  yours,  but  God's, 
and  it  is  downright  pride  and  ingratitude  —  yes  it  is, 
Mr.  James  !  —  for  you  not  to  take  pleasure  in  reflect 
ing  on  them.  Don't  you  take  pleasure  in  living  in 
Ashburlou  Place  rather  than  in  Ann  Street?  It  is  no 
doing  of  yours.  If  you  had  been  born  in  Ann  Street 
without  sufficient  spiritual  energy  to  get  out  of  it,  you 
would  be  living  there  still  in  wretched  degradation. 
But  do  not  say  that  I  counsel  you  to  take  on  airs  and 
set  up  a  coach  and  crest  because  you  live  in  Ashbur- 
tou  Place ! 


428     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

So  far  as  your  letter  was  an  explanation  of  its 
predecessor  it  was  entirely  satisfactory.  That  one 
should  be  "  pleasing  to  God  "  by  his  natural  gifts  in 
any  other  sense  than  a  bird  or  a  flower  is  pleasing, 
seems  almost  a  mathematical  absurdity,  or,  in  fact, 
that  he  should  be  pleasing  to  himself.  One  derives 
his  intellect,  his  fancy,  his  grace,  his  beauty  from  the 
Divine  through  a  human  medium  just  as  much  as  he 
derives  his  hair.  To  say  that  one  cultivates  these, 
and  another  does  not,  and  therefore  the  first  deserves 
credit,  hardly  alters  the  case,  for  the  energy  which 
enabled  the  first  to  persevere  in  cultivation  was  also, 
like  every  other  perfect  gift,  from  the  Father  of 
Lights.  Do  we  not  agree  here?  If  not,  you  must 
change  your  opinions  at  once,  for  /  am  right ! 

All  the  trouble  is  that  you,  Mr.  James,  the  philoso 
pher,  the  metaphysician,  confound  innocent  pleasure 
with  guilty  and  absurd  pride,  while  /  discriminate 
and  use  words  with  enlightened  and  accurate  regard. 
But  if  you  are  docile  and  persevering,  I  shall  pres 
ently  practise  you  so  much  that  you  will  come  to  be  a 
very  clear  and  beneficial  writer  !  (You  know  I  must 
encourage  you  a  little.) 

Your  postscript  letter  was  not  necessary  to  the  elu 
cidation  of  the  preceding  one.  Do  not  give  me 
credit  for  more  stupidity  than  I  have  a  right  to. 
When  a  hint  is  given  me  I  can  sometimes  follow  it  in 
the  right  direction  without  a  whole  letter  of  instruc 
tions.  But  yours  did  indeed  present  to  me  in  a  clear 
and  beautiful  light  the  wholeness  of  certain  truths 
which,  for  myself,  I  had  but  partially  seen.  At  the 
same  time  it  opened  out  to  me  in  another  direction, 
and  I  want  very  much  to  ask  you  a  question  or  two 
to  get  your  views  on  one  or  two  things  which  I  have 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  429 

beeu  long  turning  over  —  but  I  am  determined  I  will 
not  till  I  have  read  your  book.  Now  tell  me  — 
yes  or  no  —  is  that  preface  yet  published  !  If  not, 
can't  you  please  to  publish  a  private  copy  ?  take  it  to 
the  printers  and  tell  them  to  print  one  and  bind  it 
and  advertise  it,  as,  to  your  certain  knowledge,  it 
is  very  much  wanted. 

When  1  was  in  Boston,  why  did  you  go  to  the 
"  Congregationalist "  office  for  me?  Do  you  see  that 
paper?  I  don't  think  I  shall  write  to  you  again  till  I 
have  read  "  Lights  "  and  "Shadows  and  Substances," 
and  such  things.  I  hope  you  are  enjoying  the  sum 
mer.  It  is  short,  but  so  beautiful ! 

Yours  most  truly, 

M.  A.  D. 

JULY  18,   1864. 

I  know  I  ought  to  be  very  sorry  that  you  have 
been  ill,  and  really  I  suppose  I  am ;  but  when  I  think 
what  a  grand  letter  you  wrote  me  in  the  midst  of  it, 
I  believe,  on  the  whole,  I  don't  much  care.  Not  that 
you  wrote  me  any  letter  at  all,  for  you  say  yourself 
that  you  must  answer  mine  a  week  hence,  so  what  1 
had  this  morning  counts  for  nothing,  and  this  which 
I  am  writing  is  only  a  parenthesis  to  tell  you  how 
keenly  I  enjoyed  your  incidental  portrait  of  Concord. 
It  is  better  than  anything  I  ever  read  in  print.  I 
read  it  to  my  mother,  but  she  hardly  has  sufficient 
data  fully  to  take  in  the  flavor,  and  if  I  should  show 
it  to  two  or  three  of  my  friends  who  are  discreet, 
would  you  be  very  angry  and  never  write  to  me  any 
more?  There  is  so  much  truth  underlying  its  humor, 
and  I  think  it  is  too  good  to  be  wasted  on  me. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  do  not  wonder  that  Emerson 


430     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN    LETTERS 

should  be  a  little  sober  when  he  used  to  smile.  You 
have  such  a  heart)',  unconscious  way  of  taking  the 
breath  out  of  one's  body.  You  riot  about  among 
people's  beliefs  with  such  evident  good-natured  good 
will  —  giving  everybody  "  a  dig,"  tremendous  but 
'•jolly;"  great  names  and  small  names  are  all  one 
to  you  !  Sir  William  Hamilton  finds  himself  hob-a- 
nobbing  with  any  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry,  and  all 
mercilessly  pelted  by  the  same  shower  of  stones. 
Kant  and  the  pigmies  are  brayed  in  one  mortar,  and 
in  such  a  rollicking  manner  that  one  can  but  laugh 
whether  he  knows  anything  of  their  deserts  or  not. 
If  anybody  can  soundly  box  more  ears  in  one  para 
graph  than  you  do  in  the  note  on  page  253,  I  should 
like  to  see  him  do  it. 

You  spoke  of  Mr.  Sanborn,  and  I  suppose  3*011 
know  him.  I  saw  him  a  little  in  Concord.  He  seems 
to  me  a  man  of  parts  and  culture,  but  very  bitter. 
Once  in  a  while,  when  this  bitterness  has  been  very 
marked,  I  have  been  almost  indignant  —  as  in  a  no 
tice  of  Mr.  Ticknor's  "  Life  of  Prescott,"  in  which  he 
went  so  fin1  out  of  his  way  to  be  disagreeable  that  it 
was  quite  impressive.  But  I  generally  feel  only  a 
deep  regret  and  a  profound  pity.  (The  latter  would 
make  him  feel  nice,  wouldn't  it?)  I  think  he  must 
have  had  such  ravages  of  his  inner  life  before  he 
could  have  suffered  such  a  change.  lie  seems  to  me 
to  have  so  much  ability  that  I  have  felt  sometimes 
that  I  wished  I  could  live  near  him  and  be  his  friend, 
and  sweeten  him,  and  soothe  him,  and  smooth  him. 
I  almost  know  I  could.  You  need  not  think  that  is 
very  presumptuous.  It  does  not  imply  any  especial 
gifts  or  attainments.  But  I  think  people  are  gener 
ally  disagreeable  and  sour  because  they  have  been 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  431 

sourly  met,  and  all  I  should  do  in  such  cases  would 
be  just  to  restore  the  balance  of  their  ingredients  by 
showing  to  them  the  reverence,  the  regard,  the  defer 
ence,  the  love  which  is  the  due  of  one  human  being 
towards  another.  Love  and  reverence  are  my  great 
panacea  for  every  sickness  under  the  sun. 

As  for  Mr.  Alcott,  1  am  quite  shocked  at  your  pro 
fanity.  If  he  is  a  Z he  is  surely  the  sage-est 

looking  one  that  ever  was.  What  can  be  more  like  a 
benign  old  philosopher  than  his  tall  figure  and  his 
pale  face,  and  his  beautiful  white  hair  and  beard? 
And  then  he  talked  to  me,  and  I  was  awed,  and  took 
me  into  his  study  and  showed  me  things,  and  came 
to  my  house  on  purpose  to  see  me,  and  that  com 
pleted  the  conquest ;  and  I  thought  him  a  very,  very 
wise  man,  and  the  angel  Gabriel  could  not  convince 
me  that  he  does  not  look  like  one.  I  don't  remember 
anything  in  particular  that  he  said,  but  he  looked  like 
Plato  himself. 

Mrs.  Hawthorne  invited  Miss  Elizabeth  Hoar  to 
the  house  while  I  was  there,  and  I  spent  an  evening 
with  her.  Did  I  make  her  acquaintance?  Well,  I 
walked  round  her  and  if  I  were  wholly  the  wild  beast 
that  I  seem,  I  should  say  that  I  made  her  acquain 
tance,  but  because  under  ever  so  many  hides  there  is 
a  little  angel  folded  up  and  tucked  away,  but  trying 
always  harder  to  get  out,  I  say  no,  I  did  not  make 
her  acquaintance.  But  I  saw  her  eyes  and  her  lips, 
and  her  hands  and  her  movements,  and  I  know  that 
clay  could  have  worn  such  light  only  from  the  shining 
of  a  beautiful  soul.  "And  yet,"  you  say,  "  she  reads 
Greek  like  old  Porson."  Now,  Mr.  James,  I  object 
to  nothing  here  but  the  "  yet."  What  have  I  got  hold 
of  in  this  unknown  correspondent  of  mine  ?  I  thought 


432    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

it  was  a  rare  but  real  creature,  a  man  with  a  spirit 
that  goeth  upward  and  not  the  spirit  of  the  beast  that 
goeth  downward  to  the  earth.  And  now  he  says, 
"  and  yet ! !  "  So  I  am,  contingently,  his  friend, 

M.  A.  D. 

AUGUST  12,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  MK.  JAMES  :  It  is  my  present  design  to 
give  you  what  the  world's  people  call  a  trouncing. 
You  surely  deserve  it,  and  richly.  When  common 
people  see  things  awry,  I  can  stand  it,  but  what  were 
your  clear  eyes  given  you  for,  but  to  discern  the  form 
and  position  and  relations  of  things  just  as  they  are? 
And  do  you  suppose  I  will  let  }-ou  come  to  me  with 
your  views  all  zig-zag  and  not  attempt  to  straighten 
you  out  ?  You  need  not  cry  for  mercy  and  forbear 
ance  on  the  strength  of  the  "  sovereignly  amiable  and 
excellent  little  wife,"  and  her  "admirable  culture," 
and  Moses  and  all  the  prophets.  I  appeal  to  Caesar, 
to  that  very  sovereign  herself.  It  shall  be  just  as 
Mrs.  James  says.  If  she  thinks  she  has  trained  you 
so  thoroughly  that  it  is  not  possible  for  me  in  any 
respect  to  set  you  right,  I  yield  at  once.  No,  on  the 
whole  I  won't,  for  wives  somehow  become  so  demor 
alized  by  living  with  their  husbands,  that  they  cannot 
look  upon  them  as  abstract  beings  right  or  wrong,  but 
as  Franks  and  Henrys  whose  qualities  are  all  concre 
tions,  and  their  worse  reasons  have  therefore  no  sort 
of  difficulty  in  appearing  to  wife's  eyes  the  better 
reasons. 

The  first  count  of  the  indictment  is  the  matter  of 
Elizabeth  Hoar  and  her  Greek.  I  shall  have  very 
hard  work  with  you  because  good  and  evil  are  so 
mixed  together  in  your  opinions  that  it  is  difficult  to 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  433 

shoot  at  this  without  hitting  that.  I  agree  with  you 
in  desiring  to  have  women  distinct  and  different  from 
man.  I  agree  with  you  that  if  she  could  become  like 
unto  one  of  us  —  us  means  you  here  —  it  would  be 
the  last  calamity  that  earth  could  suffer,  but  you,  O 
faithless  and  perverse  man,  have  not  trust  in  nature. 
You  seem  to  think  that  woman  must  be  kept  away 
from  the  tree  of  knowledge  lest  she  should  thereby 
become  manny.  I  don't  think  you  could  make  woman 
like  man  if  you  should  goad  and  lash  her  to  it.  You 
can  warp  her  away  from  her  own  true  type,  but  you 
cannot  make  her  like  yourself.  I  believe  so  strongly 
in  the  adequacy  of  the  Divine  power  to  the  Divine 
purpose  that  I  believe  all  you  men  have  to  do  is  to  sit 
still  and  see  the  salvation  of  the  Lord.  Only  let 
women  alone,  let  them  study  or  sew,  let  them  follow 
the  bent  of  their  own  nature,  give  them  leisure,  oppor 
tunity,  freedom,  and  never  fear  the  issue.  Y"ou  see 
how  poor  and  mean  all  art  and  science  have  left  our 
common  life,  and  not  unnaturally  you  desire  women 
to  let  them  alone  ;  but  you  wait !  Let  woman  look  into 
art  and  science,  and  see  whether  they  have  not  some 
thing  in  them  for  the  adornment  of  this  very  life. 
Mr.  James,  you  men  don't  know  yet  what  there  is  in 
the  world  for  the  world.  You  have  looked  with  only 
half  an  eye.  You  have  touched  the  world  with  mas 
culine  hands.  What  remains  is  for  women  to  retouch 
it  to  beauty  and  holiness  and  grace.  It  is  altogether 
become  filthy.  You  see  it  and  in  despair  cry  out  to 
women  to  keep  "hands  off."  Not  so.  It  is  filthy, 
but  it  has  all  possibilities  of  the  utmost  purity  and  my 
cry  to  women  is  to  take  hold  of  it  and  scrub  it  up  till 
we  shall  have  out  of  the  old  a  new  Heaven  and  a  new 
earth  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.  That  is  an  ele- 


434     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

gant  figure,  isn't  it?  It  is  one  that  appeals  to  women 
much  better  than  I  wish  it  did.  You  yourself  see 
proofs  of  the  truth  of  this,  but  you  are  so  impressed 
with  your  foregone  conclusions  that  they  do  not  prove 
anything,  but  are  to  you  simply  inexplicable.  You 
see  that  a  woman  gets  out  of  her  Greek  something 
which  men  do  not  get.  You  see  that  out  of  the  strong 
comes  forth  sweetness,  but  instead  of  going  on  from 
particulars  to  universals,  instead  of  saying,  "  Why, 
this  lovely  white  lily  sprang  from  the  very  mud  that 
only  soils  my  boots.  Then  there  must  be  somewhat 
in  the  mud  that  I  did  not  find,  some  pure  principle 
akin  to  the  sun  and  stars,"  you  stand  and  stare  und 
say,  "  and  yet  she  reads  Greek  !  " 

Mr.  James,  you  are  head  and  shoulders  above  your 
kind,  a  Saul  among  the  brethren,  in  this  matter  of 
women.  Nevertheless  you  have  not  attained  all  truth. 
Believe  that  a  woman  may  become  more  intellectual 
without  becoming  less  personal,  believe  that  woman 
never  can  be  a  true  student  of  art  or  science  from 
"  mere  ostentation,"  believe  that  the  self-same  things 
which  have  ministered  only  emptiness  to  man's  self- 
sufficiency  shall  minister  fulness  and  grace  for  grace 
when  they  thrill  beneath  a  woman's  finer  touch.  I 
say  these  things  not  including  myself.  I  seem  to 
myself  to  stand  without.  I  claim  none  of  the  finer 
attributes  of  my  sex.  I  am  not  in  the  world.  But  I 
can  put  my  "  listening  ear  to  the  harmonic  shell,"  and 
I  know  there  is  a  melody  there  which  would  bring 
heart-healing  if  the  world  would  but  soothe  itself 
to  listen.  I  would  "level  all  barriers  between  the 
sexes,"  because  I  believe  the  sexes  are  so  eternally 
and  inmostly  separate  and  distinct  that  they  need  no 
barriers  but  only  the  utmost  freedom  to  develop  at 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  435 

their  own  sweet  will  into  a  beauty  and  strength  that 
the  world  has  never  dreamed  of.  You  might  as  well 
put  a  Chinese  wall  around  the  earth  to  keep  it  from 
becoming  the  sun. 

And  let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  James,  that  Mrs.  Haw 
thorne  is  one  of  the  sweetest,  loveliest,  mother-est 
women  I  ever  saw.  I  mind  not  whether  she  takes 
root  on  common  earth  or  upper  air;  her  leaves  are 
green,  her  blossoms  fair,  and  her  fruit  such  as  rejoiceth 
the  heart  of  God  and  man.  Her  feet  may  not  be  on 
terra  firma,  but  they  are  beautiful  upon  the  moun 
tains.  She  is  full  of  loving  kindness.  I  do  not  know 
how  broad  her  sympathies  are,  but  they  are  very  deep. 
In  her  home  she  is  a  nursing  mother,  replete  with  all 
tenderness.  You  do  not  know  how  beautiful  her  life 
is,  and  how  beautiful  is  her  family. 

I  have  read  your  last  letter  over  —  as  I  have  read 
all  your  letters  —  many  times  ;  and  while  I  have  to 
thank  you  for  much  light,  making  of  old  truths  a  new 
revelation,  and  while  I  am  especially  grateful  to  God 
for  the  spirit  that  is  in  you,  which  seems  to  me 
rich  and  rare,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  you  go  a  long 
way  round,  where  I  should  make  a  short  cut  across 
lots.  Nevertheless,  I  have  a  profound  respect  for 
every  person's  individuality,  and  the  problem  of  life 
has  uot  given  me  so  little  disquietude  that  I  should 
look  with  indifference  upon  any  attempt  at  its  solution. 
If  you  find  solace  and  peace  in  }-our  way,  and  in  that 
alone,  then  go  your  way  and  the  blessing  of  the  Lord  go 
with  you.  For  me,  it  seems  more  simple  and  no 
less  satisfactory  to  believe  that  every  good  gift  and 
every  perfect  gift  is  from  above,  that  every  evil  and 
wicked  thing  is  from  below,  and  to  love  the  good 
God  directly  and  outright.  I  do  not  think  that  one 


436     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

is  any  more  dear  to  God  than  another,  for  He  loves 
all  the  souls  that  He  has  made,  and  died  for  Arnold 
and  the  Borgias  just  as  truly  as  for  Paul  or  Luther ; 
but  I  cannot  believe  it  is  necessary  for  me  to 
undergo  the  illumination  of  an  experience  like  the 
Borgias  in  order  to  come  into  contact  with  reality. 
The  germs  of  all  evil  are  sufficiently  obvious  in  the 
heart  to  hint  what  its  fruit  may  be  without  their  ex 
panding  into  full-grown  trees.  I  am  not  careful  to 
dig  below  my  own  consciousness  to  ascertain  what  is 
the  me  and  what  is  the  not  me,  and  between  what  you 
take  out  of  me  on  the  one  side  as  Divine,  and  on  the 
other  side  as  diabolic,  I  cannot  see  that  there  is  much 
of  human  left  to  work  on.  Yet  here  I  think  the 
difficulty  rather  in  the  expression  of  the  fact  than  in 
the  fact  itself.  Practically  I  find  it  not  hard,  but 
most  easy,  natural,  and  grateful  to  give  all  glory  to 
the  Lord,  but  I  must  truly  tell  you  that  I  do  not 
know  of  any  old  nature  with  which  I  have  so  deadly 
a  quarrel  that  I  cannot  even  tolerate  its  pleasant 
things.  It  seenis  to  me  that  you  think  of  a  nature 
created  absolutely  new  by  Christ,  while  I  think  of  a 
redemption  so  complete  that  the  old  nature  is  the 
same  as  new.  I  like  the  old  nature  that  He  gave  me 
at  first,  so  utterly  clarified  by  Christ's  blood  as  to 
contain  no  longer  anything  common  or  unclean,  — 
now  pure,  —  I  mean  capable  of  being  pure,  —  such  a 
nature  as  God  meant  and  witnessed  in  its  far-off 
completion  to  be  sure,  when  He  pronounced  it  very 
good,  such  a  nature  as  He  designed  from  the  founda 
tion  of  the  world.  In  this  nature  it  seems  to  me 
that  whatsoever  things  are  just,  honorable,  lovely, 
pure,  and  pleasant  have  their  fitting  place.  And 
with  all  these  I  am  not  conscious  of  any  reluctance 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  437 

to  ascribe  all  things  good  to  God,  the  only  good.  I 
am  not  conscious  of  taking  any  pleasure  in  anything 
except  as  one  with  Him.  If  I  am  sure  of  anything, 
I  am  sure  that  I  claim  —  it  seems  almost  irreverent 
to  say  it  even  for  denial  —  no  consideration  from  the 
Most  High,  above  the  meanest  idiot  or  the  most 
hardened  villain  of  the  earth.  On  the  contrary  ii  it 
were  possible  to  speak  of  claims  they  would  have 
the  greater  right,  being  the  greatest  sufferers  from 
creation.  The  robber  and  murderer  may  not  have 
sinned  against  so  much  light  in  robbing  and  murder 
ing  as  I,  in  fretting  or  losing  my  temper,  and  so 
his  crime  may  be  less  guilty  than  my  sin.  And  I 
hope  that  somehow  good  will  be  the  final  goal  of 
ill,  even  of  an  ill  so  sore  as  his.  So  far  as  I  have 
had  an  opportunity  to  observe  the  respectable  and 
the  disreputable  I  can  much  more  easily  reconcile 
my  own  eternal  loss  with  God's  justice  than  I  could 
the  loss  of  the  miserable  wretches  who  seem  never 
to  have  had  a  fair  chance  in  life. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  your  theory  seems  to  you 
positively  self-luminous,  but  you  have  come  to  it  by 
regular  steps  and  you  stand  on  the  inside  of  it 
and  see  all  its  bearings.  And  you  have  done  me 
great  service,  but  a  service  that  lies  in  the  line  of 
my  theory  rather  than  yours.  I  incorporate  into  my 
life  all  of  yours  which  I  can  assimilate,  —  and  con 
sider  it  legal  plunder,  —  but  I  cannot  comfort  you 
by  becoming  any  less  "  deucedly  respectable,"  even 
for  so  good  a  purpose  as  you  propose.  You  do  more 
for  me  by  helping  me  to  the  interpretation  of  my 
dream  than  by  relating  to  me  your  own.  The  Evan 
gelist  commends  his  Evangel,  is  its  best  commen 
tary,  yet  cannot  make  all  its  crooked  paths  straight. 


438     GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

But  cannot  we  be  good  friends  even  if  we  do  not 
stand  on  the  same  plane  ? 

Yours  most  truly, 

MARY  A.  DODGE. 

Later. 

I  am  afraid  this  letter  looks  as  if  I  fancied  I 
had  weighed  your  system  in  the  balance  and  found 
it  wanting.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  All  I  say  is,  such 
knowledge  is  too  wonderful  for  me.  It  is  high,  I 
cannot  attain  unto  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  can 
get  to  God  more  easily.  You  thread  a  labyrinth 
for  the  narrow  way.  But  you  have  the  thread  and 
an  inward  light,  which  though  it  does  not  shine 
upon  me  strongly  enough  to  take  me  safely  ami  sim 
ply  through  your  path,  has  yet  shed  a  very  kindly 
and  timely  illumination  upon  mine. 

I  wish  I  could  say  something  to  assure  you  how 
very  deeply  I  am  mindful  of  your  —  what  shall  I 
say  ?  Kindness  is  not  quite  the  word  —  perhaps 
courtesy  will  do  if  you  distend  it  with  all  the  fine 
ness  and  meaning  it  can  hold.  But  I  shall  not  come 
any  nearer  my  meaning  by  keeping  on,  so  I  will  bid 
you  good-night.  On  Wednesday  I  go  to  Peter 
borough,  N.H.,  for  a  week  or  two.  Once  more, 

Very  truly  yours, 

M.  A.  D. 

[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

SEPTEMBER  2,   1864. 

I  send  you  the  verses  you  asked  for.  They  were 
written  on  the  eve  of  the  Presidential  election  eight 
years  ago,  "  in  the  heat  of  youthful  blood,"  but  don't 
mention  this  fact,  for  they  fit  now  quite  as  well  as 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  439 

they  did  then  ;  and  I  have  a  small  hope  that  they  may 
do  a  little  service  now,  and  I  fear  if  they  were  known 
to  be  so  old  they  might  be  considered  superannuated. 
They  were  originally  sent  to  the  "  N.  Y.  Times,"  but 
as  they  did  not  appear  there,  and  as  I  was  then  a 
novice  in  the  ways  of  newspapers,  I  supposed  they 
were  clean  given  over,  and  sent  them  to  a  Hartford 
paper,  perhaps  the  "  Courant,"  where  they  soon  ap 
peared,  but  to  my  great  dismay  the  day  before  elec 
tion  brought  them  out  as  large  as  life  in  the  "Times." 
However,  I  was  not  arrested  for  forgery,  and  justice 
still  sleeps.  I  have  told  you  these  things  because  you 
know  what  an  inexhaustible  delight  it  is  to  talk  about 
ourselves. 

Did  I  say  my  sweet  peas  came  up?  So  they  did, 
about  six  inches,  and  then  they  stretched  out  their 
tiny  fingers  imploringly  and  died  with  all  their  sweet 
ness  in  them.  Not  a  single  bud  or  blossom,  not  the 
simulacricula  of  one  (you  think  in  Latin  and  the  Latin 
comes:  Pope's  "  P^ssay  on  Man").  So  I  am  not 
pacific  on  the  subject  of  sweet  peas,  and  I  entreat  you 
not  to  be  leguminous  when  I  am  lugubrious. 

About  "  Agricultural  College."  Mr.  D.  says  I  must 
not  speak  against  your  being  president,  there  is  no  one 
else  fit,  and  it  is  unpatriotic.  Pray  consider,  therefore, 
that  every  iron  word  of  discouragement  is  transmuted 
into  golden  instigation.  I  know  I  am  a  selfish  person, 
self-centred,  self- thinking,  a  miserable  and  unworthy 
creature,  who  look  upon  things  in  general  in  their 
relations  to  me-ward.  Why  do  not  moral  writers  have 
clearer  ideas  of  what  selfishness  is  ?  They  talk  as  if 
to  be  selfish  is  to  do  selfish  things.  Nonsense.  You 
may  do  beneficent  things  every  day  of  your  life,  sac 
rifice  all  your  inclinations  to  others'  good,  give  your 


440     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

body  to  be  burned,  and  yet  be  all  the  while  inwardly 
dwelling  on  your  own  self,  and  so  on  the  very  pinnacle 
of  selfishness. 

Your  picture  is  right  up  and  down  handsome,  and 
there  is  no  use  in  mincing  the  matter.  "  Pretty  they 
that  pretty  do  "  is  a  maxim  well  enough  for  the  nurs 
ery,  but  it  falls  to  pieces  when  taken  out  into  the  air, 
and  becomes — Pretty  they  that  pretty  are,  "  of  whom 
what  does  St.  Paul  say  ?  " 

I  think  you  did  very  wisely  in  not  specifying  my 
"  obliquity."  Nothing  is  more  impertinent  or  more 
useless  than  to  tell  people  their  faults.  The  proba 
bility  is  that  they  know  them  already  a  great  deal 
better  than  you  do.  Doubtless  the  very  thing  of  which 
you  deem  me  guilty  is  the  glory  of  my  innocence,  nay, 
the  very  crown  of  my  virtue.  You  pride  yourself  on 
your  carpentering  and  your  close-clipped  hedges.  My 
good  sir,  just  add  to  all  your  office,  shop,  and  out 
door  work  Mrs.  Pamela's  and  the  housemaid's  (I 
don't  cook)  share,  and  then  question  whether  you  can 
be  justly  accused  of  neglect,  even  if  Rome  is  not  built 
and  finished  in  a  day  !  I  thank  you  for  your  kind 
offer  to  "  come  over  and  tell  me  what  to  do,"  but  I 
assure  you  you  would  be  much  more  serviceable  to 
come  over  and  do  it.  I  know  perfectly  well  what  to 
do  now  —  but  to  get  it  done,  hoc  opus  hie  labor  est. 
Henry,  thou  reasonest  well  when  thou  sayest  it  is  not 
necessary  to  take  hold  of  people  in  order  to  be  friendly. 
For  well  thou  knowest  that  on  the  day  when  thou 
takest  hold  of  me  I  shall  elude  thy  grasp  and  thou 
wilt  have  under  thy  hand  only  a  pillar  of  salt,  which 
thou  wilt  immediately  trade  off  with  the  Southern  Con 
federacy,  while  I  shall  stand  on  some  far  hill-top  and 
mock  at  thy  discomfiture. 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  441 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

SEPTEMBER  13,  1864. 

Will  you  please  say  to  Mrs.  Bridge  that  I  was  at 
the  mountains  when  her  note  came,  and  did  not  get  it 
till  it  was  too  late  to  send  to  her  at  Saratoga,  and  I 
knew  not  whither  from  there  the  angel  had  sped  her 
flight.  However,  as  you  and  she  effected  a  conjunc 
tion,  it  is  just  as  well  as  if  I  had  written.  How  time 
works  for  us  if  only  we  will  lie  still  and  let  him ! 

So  little  Peter  Parker  still  lives.  I  have  wondered 
many  times  whether  his  precious  little  body  held 
together.  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  something  about 
him.  Is  he  pretty?  Is  he  bright?  Is  he  like  other 
children,  or  is  he  like  his  father  and  his  mother?  Can 
he  talk?  And  is  his  father's  soul  bound  up  in  him? 
Is  he  wisely  entreated  ?  I  do  hope  he  will  live  to  be 
a  joy  and  pride  to  the  good  man  his  father,  and  the 
good  woman  his  mother,  all  the  days  of  their  lives. 

Fie  upon  you,  that  you  cannot  even  sit  down  to 
the  communion  table  without  having  a  fling  at  Con 
necticut !  Why,  Mr.  Wood,  if  you  should  ever,  with 
so  bad  a  spirit,  be  admitted  to  heaven,  you  will  go 
prying  about  to  see  if  the  sardonyx  and  jasper  are 
not  glass,  and,  finding  there  is  no  deception,  I  fear 
not  even  the  genius  loci  will  not  prevent  you  from  cry 
ing  out  "Ha!  ha!  no  Connecticut  people  here  — 
that's  plain !  " 

Mr.  Curtis  invited  me  to  his  wedding,  which  was  to 
be  a  fortnight  or  so  ago,  but  I  did  not  get  the  invita 
tion  till  after  the  deed  was  done.  He  is  married  to 
a  Miss  Hubbard,  daughter  of  ex-Governor  Hubbard 
of  Maine,  and  one  of  the  best  of  women  —  a  real 
"  fine  lady."  A  friend  has  been  moaning  for  me  to 


442     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

come  to  her  wedding,  and  at  last  I  concluded  to  go, 
and  went  to  Salem  for  a  new  dress,  since  you  cannot 
attend  weddings  in  rags.  But  my  dressmaker  iy  going 
to  be  married  herself,  and  has  "  shut  up  shop,"  and 
in  all  Salem  was  not  a  dress  that  I  would  stoop  to 
look  at  a  second  time.  I  wanted  a  white  corded  mus 
lin,  or  a  very  thin  gossamer,  something  also  white. 
So  I  have  given  up  the  wedding  altogether,  and  I  did 
not  want  to  go  in  the  first  place.  I  don't  like  to  go 
to  weddings  anyway,  unless  they  are  in  church  and 
people  I  don't  know.  For  me  you  may  prepare  your 
bridal  gifts  whenever  you  like,  but  Mr.  D.,  though 
a  very  warm  friend  of  mine,  is  the  husband  of  one 
wife  and  blameless  as  St.  Paul  would  have  him,  and 
the  father  of  four  children,  so  I  shall  hardly  come  at 
much  silver-plate  through  him.  You  see  I  count  upon 
your  being  mulcted  in  nothing  less  than  a  silver 
service,  to  say  the  least,  upon  that  interesting  occa 
sion. 

I  stayed  in  Peterboro'  a  week,  and  much  enjoyed 
the  quietness,  the  mountain  air,  the  cream  and  cus 
tards,  and  nothing  to  do,  the  drives  and  walks 
and  talks.  Since  I  came  home  I  have  been  vari 
ously  and  busily  occupied  with  friends,  both  in  the 
flesh  and  on  paper.  Not  much  to  speak  of  but  a 
good  deal  to  think  of  and  to  do.  At  present  we  are 
thinking  a  good  deal  about  election.  The  Lord  send 
us  right  hearts  and  right  hands  to  vote  for  the  truth 
and  for  righteousness.  One  of  our  boys,  a  three 
years'  man,  has  just  come  home,  full  of  fire  for  Grant 
and  victory.  Good- by. 

Yours  truly, 

M.  A.  D. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  443 

SEPTEMBER  16,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  JAMES  :  I  wrote  you  a  very  thorny 
and  prickly  letter  yesterday,  and  I  am  afraid  you 
won't  want  me  to  write  you  another,  so  I  am  going 
to  hurry  up  this  before  you  have  time  to  tell  me  so, 
and  then  you  cannot  help  yourself. 

I  did  get  your  letter  in  Peterboro',  and  I  was  rap 
idly  working  down  to  its  place  in  the  pile  when  a 
second  one  came  and  stole  its  brother's  birthright, 
and  keeps  stealing  it,  for  there  are  quite  many  things 
I  wish  to  say  in  reply  to  your  last,  and  one  is  that  I 
am  not  '•  preparing  to  publish"  anything  on  the  sub 
ject  you  mentioned,  for  it  is  already  prepared,  and 
only  awaits  the  slow  movements  of  the  steam-press 
and  the  Presidential  election  to  "  stun  with  its  giddy 
larura  half  the  town,"  especially  that  half  that  lies  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  Ashburtou  Place.  And  I 
was  going  to  send  you  an  early  copy,  but  I  don't 
think  I  shall  now,  unless  you  beg  for  it  very  hard 
indeed.  I  suppose  I  can  have  my  head  cut  off  as  well 
as  another,  but  I  don't  think  it  is  my  duty  to  send  up 
by  telegraph  the  ax  that  is  to  do  it.  I  always  thought 
it  was  very  cruel  in  the  old  schoolmasters  to  make 
boys  go  out  into  the  woods  and  cut  and  trim  the  very 
twig  they  were  to  be  flogged  with. 

And  so  you  are  going  to  sit  still  in  heaven  and  not 
speak  unless  you  are  spoken  to.  Oh,  but  you  need 
not  try  to  make  me  believe  that.  Or,  if  you  do,  you 
will  keep  making  signs  to  me  to  come  over  and  make 
you  a  speech,  so  that  you  can  be  released  from  your 
self-imposed  vow,  and  I  am  so  amiable  that  I  shall 
do  it,  and  I  shall  talk  much  better  than  I  can  now, 
and  I  shall  show  you  what  a  wicked  man  you  are  to 
live  \vitliiu  the  sound  of  the  Boston  church-going  bell, 


444    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

under  the  droppings  of  Dr.  Kirk's  sanctuary,  and  talk 
about  profane  Sundays  and  holy  Mondays  !  Oh-o-o, 
anybody  might  know  you  were  a  man,  and  did  not 
have  the  washing  to  see  to.  Then,  too,  my  tongue 
being  loosed,  I  shall  show  you  how  sadly  you  are  out 
of  sorts  to  me-ward,  and  you  will  be  filled  with  re 
morse,  and  beg  my  pardon  with  tears  in  your  eyes, 
and  then  I  shall  feel  so  badly  that  I  have  made  you 
unhappy  that  I  shall  forgive  you  right  uway  before 
the  impression  is  half  deep  enough,  and  I  should  not 
wonder  if  you  should  go  and  do  the  same  thing  over 
again.  But  do  not  you  impose  upon  my  good  nature 
even  in  heaven. 

To  make  a  descent  from  heaven  into  our  vestry  — 
do  we  have  a  winter  course  of  lectures  ?  We  do  not, 
sir.  "•  A  course  of  lectures,"  a  citizen  of  Hamilton 
might  say  with  Pet  Marjorie,  "  is  a  thing  I  am  not  a 
member  of  "  And  as  to  Cailyle,  if  I  should  mention 
his  name  to  my  friends  and  fellow-citizens,  they  would 
immediately  ask  me  if  he  is  a  Union  man  or  "  Copper 
head."  Remembering  Troja  in  nuce,  I  could  not 
depose  and  say  that  he  was  as  loyal  as  one  could 
desire,  and  they  would  at  once  decide  that  no  vestry 
of  ours  should  be  opened  for  the  like  of  him.  But 
that  will  make  no  difference  to  you,  Mr.  James,  be 
cause  I  never,  no,  never,  go  on  the  platform  to  shake 
hands  with  the  lecturer,  and  if  I  knew  it  was  you  I 
should  sit  behind  a  post  and  go  straight  out  the  mo 
ment  lecture  was  over,  and  watch  you  through  the 
blinds  the  next  morning,  because  you  would  have  to 
go  by  my  house  on  your  way  to  the  station. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.  were  down  here  the  other  day, 
and  I  asked  them  about  you.  You  will  understand  I 
should  not  demean  myself  by  any  coarse  questioning. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  445 

I  choose  to  know  of  my  friends  only  what  they  choose 
to  reveal,  but  I  got  no  good  from  my  fields,  for  they 
answered  up  with  such  an  enthusiasm  of  regard  that 
they  might  as  well  not  have  spoken  at  all.  I  did  not 
want  to  know  whether  your  friends  like  you  or  not, 
but  whether  you  are  such  a  person  that  people  who 
have  no  armor  and  no  arms  would  be  likely  to  be  shot 
down  dead  by  you,  and  that  I  did  not  find  out. 

As  for  your  inviting  me  to  Ashburton  Place,  I 
assure  you  it  is  quite  out  of  the  question,  because 
there  would  be  how  many?  Garth,  and  Harry,  and 
"my  daughter,"  and  Mrs.  James,  —  four  more  reasons 
for  my  not  going  there  than  there  are  for  your  not 
coming  here.  I  know  what  a  nice  family  it  is,  for 
the  F.'s  told  me,  especially  the  queen-mother,  and 
when  you  are  sitting  in  your  corner  in  heaven,  with 
them  all  around  you,  I  shall  walk  in  with  the  utmost 
nonchalance,  and  greet  you  all  around  as  composedly 
as  if  you  had  all  been  rocked  in  my  cradle,  and  we 
shall  immediately  enter  into  the  liveliest  discussion, — 
won't  it  be  nice  ?  —  and  not  have  a  thought  about  our 
selves. 

11  All  instincts  immature, 
All  purposes  unsure, 
Thoughts  hardly  to  be  packed 
Into  a  narrow  act, 

Fancies  that  broke  through  language  and  escaped ; 
All  I  could  never  be, 
All,  men  ignored  in  me." 

AVon't  it  be  charming  to  have  it  all  set  free,  and  every 
one  be  himself  to  the  very  utmost  —  be  all  that  God 
made  and  meant  him  to  be  ? 

To  go  back  to  Peterboro',  at  which  you  had  a 
fling,  —  of  course  it  is  not  so  nice  as  Northampton.  I 


446     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

suppose  the  best  place  out  of  Massachusetts  is  not  to 
be  compared  to  the  worst  place  in  it,  nevertheless, 
Peterboro'  was  very  well  to  do,  with  its  green  hills 
and  running  waters  and  Monadnock  for  inspiration. 
It  was  the  mountains  in  a  modified  condition,  and 
rides  on  the  top  of  a  stage-coach,  sometimes  high  up 
on  mountain  ridges,  and  sometimes  through  woods  so 
close  that  you  seem  to  be  driving  your  coach  and  six 
through  a  golden-green  tube  —  well,  it  is  not  North 
ampton,  but  it  is  very  well  in  its  way.  So  far  from 
the  people  being  '-set  up"  by  my  advent,  I  assure 
you  they  maintained  the  greatest  tranquillity,  and  had 
not  even  a  suspicion  that  a  chiel  was  amang  'em  takin' 
notes,  as  indeed  there  wasn't,  so  I  ate  my  baked 
apples,  cream,  and  custards,  in  deep  peace,  like  any 
other  boarder,  which  was  very  satisfactory. 

The  letter  which  you  sent  to  me  at  Petcrboro'  con 
tained  a  very  clear  statement.  I  think  I  comprehend 
it,  and  I  think,  too,  that  one  reason  why  your  views 
are  hard  to  be  understood  and  easy  to  be  denied,  and 
will  therefore  not  command,  at  any  rate  for  a  good 
\vhile,  the  popular  acceptation,  is  because  you  use 
words  in  a  sense  different  from  their  ordinary  one. 
It  seems  to  me  that  the  main  difference  between  you 
and  theologians  at  large  is  that  you  believe  to  the 
depth  what  they  believe  only  superficially.  You  carry 
tilings  out  to  their  meanings,  while  others  let  them 
slide  out  of  sight  after  the  first  step  or  two.  For  in 
stance,  your  ideas  of  good  and  evil,  in  their  origin, 
are,  I  suppose,  taught  in  every  church  in  Christendom, 
but  I  never  saw  any  one,  except  you,  who  ever  in 
quired  what  there  was  left  after  the  universal  affirma 
tion  of  God  and  the  devil,  and  the  consequent  entire 
negation  of  self.  Up  to  that  point  I  can  accompany 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  447 

you  with  equal  step,  but  after  that  I  only  follow, 
loitgo  intervallo.  I  agree  with  you  just  as  I  agree  with 
Euclid,  I  assent  to  the  simple  truth  of  your  proposi 
tions,  but  T  could  not  originate  them,  and  I  shall,  I 
am  sure,  constantly  be  making  combinations  which 
will  prove  beyond  doubt  that  I  have  forgotten  these 
first  principles,  and  therefore  never  did  become  thor 
oughly  imbued  with  them,  because 

"  All  that  is,  at  all, 

Lasts  ever,  past  recall ; 
What  entered  into  thee, 
That  was,  is,  anil  shall  be." 

What  I  mean  is  this :  I  understand  well  enough  that 
our  phenomenal  life  is  not  our  real,  true,  everlasting 
life,  but  that  the  true  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God. 
But  what  is  the  "us,"  the  "our"?  If  our  life  is  a 
continual  spiritual  communication  from  God,  where  is 
the  dividing  line  between  us  and  God?  When  He 
made  a  living  soul  what  did  He  make?  Did  He 
make  us  absolutely  without  spiritual  capacity,  so  that 
at  some  definite  time  after  we  were  born  He  must 
communicate  to  us  His  spirit,  Himself,  or  else  we 
should  die  out  of  life  just  like  a  sunset?  Is  our  im 
mortality  only  a  subsequent  gift,  a  complement? 
And  if  this  be  so,  what  is  the  sign  of  His  coming? 
When  does  our  immortality  begin?  Who  gives  the 
signal,  who  commences  the  work?  And  if  we  die 
before  this  spiritual  inflow  of  God  begins,  what  be 
comes?  Is  there  a  mere  physical,  mental  resurrec 
tion  for  the  merely  physical  and  mental  power? 

And  again  —  after  these  lines  of  communication 
between  God  and  the  soul  are  opened,  cannot  one 
then  approach  God  directly?  Shall  not  one  then 


448    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

speak  with  God  face  to  face,  as  a  man  speaketh  with 
his  friend? 

If  you  keep  answering  my  questions  you  will  have 
a  new  volume  of  essays  written  before  you  know  it, 
and  I  will  publish  them,  ti  la  Whately,  as  "  James' 
Easy  Lessons." 

Yours  very  truly, 

MARY  ABBY  DODGE. 


SEPTEMBER  17,  1864. 
To  His  EXCELLENCY  THE  JUDGE,  GREETING  : 

If  you  had  not  been  naughty  and  written  your  let 
ter  on  Sunday,  perhaps  I  should  have  answered  it  so 
that  you  could  have  received  the  answer  this  week. 
Instead  of  which  you  have  been  forced  to  languish 
through  all  these  many  days  without  it !  Do  you  not 
see  now  that  virtue  alone  is  rewarded  and  vice  pun 
ished,  outside  a  court-room?  But  there,  poor  creat 
ure,  I  do  suppose  you  are  so  dis-taste-ed  with  the 
thieves  and  rogues  of  the  six  days,  that  it  makes 
quite  a  Sunday  to  sit  down  and  write  to  any  one  who 
is  not  "  up"  for  trial,  no  matter  how  much  he  or  she 
may  deserve  sentence.  That  is  why  I  always  thought 
it  would  be  nice  to  marry  a  lawyer.  He  would  have 
to  do  with  people  so  very  bad,  and  greedy,  and  dis 
honest,  that  his  wife  would  seem  good  and  whole 
some  and  pleasant  to  him,  even  if  she  were  not  the 
very  Queen  of  the  Antilles  for  unselfishness  and  so 
forth  (  !).  I  told  a  lie  up  yonder,  for  I  never  thought 
of  it  till  this  minute,  but  it  has  made  a  violent  im 
pression  on  me.  Consult  Mrs.  "Pamela,"  —I  like 
to  use  that  name,  it  seems  so  stately  and  Old 
English,  —  and  report  her  opinion  on  the  subject. 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  449 

About  my  picture ;  for  the  eleventh  time  let  me  tell 
you  that  I  haven't  any  card  picture.  I  cannot  have 
a  picture,  because  the  sun  won't  take  me.  He  shuts 
his  eyes  close,  and  passes  by  on  the  other  side  when  I 
go  a-photographing.  He  winks  up  at  Lyra  and  the 
dog  star  as  soon  as  he  espies  me,  takes  off  his  hat  to 
Orion,  and  sits  down  in  Cassiopeia's  chair,  staring  all 
about  him,  and  to  every  attempt  to  make  him  look  in 
my  direction  he  reiterates  only  that  he  "don't  see" 
me.  Project  from  your  imagination  a  picture  which 
shall  represent  to  your  mind's  eye,  Horatio,  all  you 
would  have  me  be,  and  then  make  believe  that  it  is 
me  —  pardon  the  grammar  for  the  sake  of  the  eu 
phony. 

Thank  you  for  your  good  will  in  promising  to  de- 
feud  my  book,  but  I  rather  think  you  will  find  it  quite 
enough  to  defend  yourself.  Besides,  the  book,  like 
Massachusetts,  needs  no  defence.  There  she  is,  I 
shall  say  to  the  waiting  world,  behold  her,  and  judge 
for  yourselves.  There  are  title  page,  finis,  covers, 
and  chapters,  and  there  they  will  remain  for  ever !  and 
if  you,  my  friend,  can  show  yourself  friendly  only 
by  the  wrong  in  that  book,  I  despair  of  ever  finding 
in  you  anything  but  a  foernan.  For  that  book,  O 
Gaul,  is  what  Mrs.  Browning  would  call  "  a  blotch 
of  light."  Do  }rou  ever  read  Browning  ?  I  do.  I  read 
him  right  straight  through,  not ' '  Sordello,"  but ' '  Dram 
atis  Personoe,"  and  "Men  and  Women,"  and  such. 
Seven-eighths  of  it  I  don't  understand,  but  the  other 
eighth  has  more  substance  in  it  than  most  people's 
whole.  Nobody  says  things  obliquely  like  Browning. 
You  know  the  old  prophets  are  supposed  to  have  had 
two  meanings  to  their  prophecies,  one  a  secondary 
and  ultimate  meaning,  the  other  the  primary,  local, 


450     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

temporary  one.  Browning  is  such  an  old  prophet. 
He  says  things  finely,  but  he  means  magnificently. 

The  summer  dies  lingeringly,  but  it  dies.  Oh,  woe 
is  me,  who  want  it  always  summer,  who  live  only  in 
the  summer !  Just  so  far  as  it  is  winter  I  am  con 
gealed.  I  have  no  outward  life.  Once  I  wrote  a 
poem,  "  Summer  Gone,"  and  you  may  well  believe 
it  was  lovely.  It  wasn't  a  poem,  it  was  a  wail. 

If  you  publish  my  letters  you  will  wake  up  one 
morning  and  find  the  world  all  on  tiptoe  about  a  new 
book  that  has  appeared  over  night,  called  "Tit  for 
Tat ;  "  and  when  you  come  to  open  it  you  will  find  it 
is  your  own  epistles,  as  large  as  life. 

[To  MR.  JAMES.] 

SEPTEMBER  21,   1864. 

Can't  I  understand  a  parable  as  well  as  another? 
The  words  of  the  wise,  and  their  dark  sayings?  I 
did  not  come  to  you  by  the  regular  way  of  introduc 
tion  and  handshaking,  and  sit  down  and  behave 
myself  through  an  intolerable  half-hour,  but  you 
found  me  cradled  in  an  "  Atlantic  Monthly,"  and  left 
on  some  stone  door-step  or  lower  vestibule  of  your 
life. 

I  have  no  business  to  be  writing  you  now,  and  that 
is  why  I  persist  in  doing  it.  I  always  did  have  a 
passion  for  putting  my  head  into  the  lion's  mouth, 
and  if  his  jaws  do  not  yawn  wide  enough  it  is  I  for 
taking  hold  and  giving  them  a  stretch !  The  which 
also  I  am  now  forward  to  do. 

I  don't  wonder  that  you  "  beg  off."  Anybody 
that  oould  read  that  letter  of  mine,  and  then  malign 
it  as  you  did,  has  need  to  entreat  that  Nemesis  would 
stay  her  hand.  But  Nemesis  has  you  and  is  not  go- 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  451 

ing  to  let  you  go  for  all  your  sighs  and  tears.  Why, 
it  was  a  lovely  letter!  I  would  be  willing,  as  parlia 
mentarians  say,  to  go  to  the  country  on  that  letter, 
and  you  see  if  I  wouldn't  get  all  the  votes.  It  is 
little  to  say  it  was  logical,  —  it  was  logic  itself,  —  and 
you  talk  of  John  Locke  and  Dr.  Channing !  You 
must  know  in  your  heart  that  neither  the  one  nor  tke 
other  could  write  a  letter  that  should  begin  to  com 
pare  with  that.  It  might  have  been  more  elegant, 
but  it  would  not  be  half  so  convincing.  The  facts, 
my  philosopher,  I  suppose  to  be  these  :  that  letter 
knocked  away  all  the  props  on  which  you  have  been 
accustomed  to  lean.  It  revealed  to  you  the  abysm 
of  error  into  which  you  have  been  falling  for  a  time 
longer  than  it  took  a  person  I  may  not  name,  but 
whom  you  consider  a  gentleman,  to  fall  into  a  place 
which  I  deem  it  more  fitting  not  further  to  designate. 
The  consequence  of  a  revelation  so  sudden,  and  a 
discomfiture  so  entire,  was  that  you  were  speechless, 
and  if  I  could  only  have  held  my  tongue  —  which,  by 
the  way,  I  never  could  do  —  I  should  have  come  off 
with  all  your  flags,  cannon,  and  munitions  of  war. 
But  I  must  needs  go  and  write  another  letter  at  which 
you  clutch  as  a  drowning  man  clutches  at  a  straw, 
and  over  that  recover  breath  to  assume  a  new  posi 
tion.  And  what  are  some  of  the  features  of  this 
new  position?  Why,  in  the  first  place,  this  man  steps 
up  and  as  good  as  tells  me  I  don't  know  anything  ! 
I  who  know  Latin,  and  Greek,  and  French,  and  Ger 
man,  and  Spanish,  —  at  any  rate,  know  which  is 
which,  if  I  don't  know  which  is,  —  and  all  the  ologies, 
and  osophies,  and  ographies  that  amount  to  anything, 
and  what  I  don't  know  I  make  up,  so  it's  all  one  as 
if  I  knew  them.  I  who  am  such  a  learned  woman 


452     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

that  my  neighbor  affirms,  with  horror  depicted  on 
every  lineament,  that  he  would  not  for  the  world  have 
women  in  general  know  so  much  as  I  do,  and  here 
comes  a  man  not  six  months  out  of  Rhode  Island  and 
informs  me  that  I  am  a  Know-Nothing  !  He  surely 
has  every  confidence  in  the  sweetness  of  my  temper 
if  he  has  none  in  my  acquisitions.  Fortunately  his 
confidence  is  not  so  ill-placed  as  his  faithlessness,  yet 
I  may  entreat  with  Sir  Anthony  Absolute,  "  Don't  put 
me  in  a  passion !  "  for  there  is  no  telling  what  I  may 
be  left  to  do. 

"  A  truce  to  essays,"  you  cry  sagaciously,  having 
fared  so  ill  in  my  essaying  hands.  "A  truce  to 
besiegers,"  doubtless  cries  young  Hood  below  At 
lanta.  "A  truce  to  navies,"  frantically  gesticulates 
Mobile  before  Farragut's  victorious  ships,  and  I  doubt 
not,  if  we  could  get  at  the  truth,  we  should  find  that 
Mr.  Jefferson  Davis  entertains  so  very  mean  an  opin 
ion  of  Grant  and  his  army  that  he  would  like  nothing 
better  than  to  proclaim  "  a  truce  to  fighting,"  and  im 
mediately  take  ship  and  bury  his  name  and  fame  in 
some  shadowy  isle  of  Eden  lying  in  dark  purple 
spheres  of  sea  in  the  back  yard  of  Locksley  Hall. 
But  there  can  be  no  truce  to  the  wrong ;  now  then 
dear,  discomfited,  down-cast  yet  defiant  metaphysi 
cian,  why  not  own  up  like  a  major-general  and  con 
fess  though  a  fox  you  are  watched  by  a  crane9  Say 
right  out  fair  and  square  with  becoming  humility,  "  O 
thrice  and  four  times  learned !  Peccavinms." 

But  rave  not  thus  !  and  I  won't  be  hard  upon  you. 
You  beg  me  to  be  good.  I  am  sorry  to  disoblige 
you,  but  I  wasted  all  the  early  years  of  my  life  in 
premature  goodness,  and  shall  have  no  opportunity  for 
any  works  of  supererogation  at  this  late  day.  I  do 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  453 

suppose  I  was  the  goodest,  gravest,  sedatest,  vir- 
tuousest,  little  girl  that  ever  was,  but  it  never  came 
to  anything,  so  then  at  fourteen  I  turned  about  and 
was  born  and  began  new. 

And  by  the  way,  it  just  occurs  to  me  that  your  phil 
osophy  turns  the  key  in  the  lock  I  have  been  vainly 
trying  to  pick  these  many  years  —  namely,  how  I 
came  to  be  both  so  good  and  so  learned !  I  hope 
this  will  leave  you  in  a  more  humble  and  docile  frame 
of  mind  than  it  has  found  you,  and  if  it  does,  you 
will  owe  it  all  to  me,  who,  through  evil  report  and 
through  good  report,  will  you,  uill  you,  am  your  firm 
and  faithful  chastiser  and  friend, 

M.  A.  D. 


[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

OCTOBER  7. 

Don't  you  see  what  an  inexpressible  comfort  and 
solace  underlie  all  grief  where  you  see  that  the  grief 
is  a  thing  of  dust  and  ashes  only,  and  the  com 
fort  is  as  infinite  as  God  ?  Nothing  but  moral  bad 
ness  reaches  beyond  this  world,  and  why  should  you 
break  your  heart  over  anything  which,  however  dread 
ful,  is  not  that?  Now  don't  think  I  am  just  saying 
this.  I  believe  it  from  the  depths  of  my  heart.  I 
don't  know  whether  I  should  be  so  well  able  to  act 
upon  it  myself  as  I  am  to  recommend  such  action  to 
you.  I  don't  like  to  have  people  fret  and  whine, 
but  I  dare  say  a  good  real  heart-cry  does  good,  and 
if  you  want  it  you  shall  have  it.  If  he  sleeps  well 
I  don't  see  how  he  can  help  getting  well. 

The  new  book  is  a  very  hateful  and  quarrelsome 
little  book,  but  1  hope  it  will  bring  forth  the  peace- 


454     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

able   fruits  of  righteousness,  especially  in  those  that 
will  be  exercised  thereby,  of  whom  you  are  chief. 

OCTOBER  29,  1864. 

The  beauty  of  liking  people  is  that  you  can  talk  to 
them  without  saying  anything,  according  to  my  think 
ing.  There  was  a  woman  once  hanging  clothes  to  dry. 
Her  baby  came  up  and  took  a  pillow-case  from  the 
basket,  dragged  it  along,  and  held  it  up  for  her  to 
hang.  It  did  not  help  her  much,  for  she  had  the  pil 
low-case  to  wash  over  again,  but  she  caught  up  the 
baby  and  hugged  and  kissed  him  as  furiously  as  if  he 
had  been  a  washer,  wringer,  and  mangle,  all  in  one. 
By  the  way,  what  is  a  mangle  ?  I  don't  know,  nor 
you  either  for  that  matter,  but  it  is  something  about 
washing-day.  I  saw  the  word  yesterday,  and  impress 
it  into  service  before  the  new  gets  rubbed  off.  Now, 
don't  be  in  a  pet.  I  scarcely  ever  am  with  any  one  I 
really  like  —  unless  it  is  something  more  than  a  pet, 
something  so  fatal  as  to  prevent  all  future  free  inter 
flow.  I  never  did  see  anything  so  badly  put  together 
(humanly  speaking)  as  I  am.  I  have  no  end  of  rudi 
mentary  good  possibilities,  but  they  never  can  come 
to  anything.  I  might  just  as  well  be  a  stupid,  dingy, 
ignorant  Irish  washerwoman,  for  all  the  personal  ser 
vice  I  can  do  anybody.  I  cannot  be  any  more  avail 
able  to  you  or  anybody  else  in  a  rational  way  than  a 
brickbat,  and  yet  there  is  so  much  good  in  me  if  it 
could  only  be  brought  to  bear.  I  suppose  if  I  really 
were  a  brickbat  I  should  not  feel  at  all  out  of  place 
shying  at  people's  heads  all  the  time,  but  as  it  is  I 
cannot  help  thinking  it  looks  like  a  waste  of  material. 
However,  it  is  all  only  to  show  you  that  you  never 
ought  to  be  vexed  the  verv  least  little  bit  in  the  world 


BUSY  YP;ARS  IN  HAMILTON          455 

at  anything  I  do,  and  especially  at  anything  I  don't  do, 
because  you  know  if  it  is  a  pin's  point  to  you  it  is  a 
bayonet's  thrust  to  me.  I  dare  say  the  world  will 
get  along  well  enough  without  me.  Only  perhaps  1 
might  be  a  little  more  comfortable  not  to  be  so  zig- 

zag-gy- 

We  had  a  one  hundred  and  fiftieth  anniversary  the 
other  evening,  and  an  extract  was  read  from  Dr. 
Cutler's  fifty-years-ago  sermon,  in  whicli  he  told  his 
hearers  they  must  answer  one  day  for  the  manner  in 
which  they  had  listened,  and  he  for  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  preached.  I  thought,  as  I  sat  there, 
that  has  happened.  They  have  answered.  The  great 
day  has  come,  and  undoubtedly  they  were  all  sur 
prised  at  the  turn  things  took.  Now,  what  will  it 
matter  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  hence,  and  still  more 
a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  even  if  a  few  years 
were  dropped  out  of  earth?  If  only  those  that  re 
mained  planted  in  us  the  seeds  of  truth,  "  the  hate  of 
hate,  the  scorn  of  scorn,  the  love  of  love,"  we  can 
well  afford  to  wait  awhile  to  let  them  germinate. 

I  have  been  committing  no  foolishness  in  the 
atmospheres,  but  a  great  wisdom.  Nevertheless,  let 
me  loathe  and  abhor  it  while  I  can,  because  the  mo 
ment  it  comes  out,  you  know,  I  must  stand  up  for  it. 
I  am  not  in  the  least  afraid  of  losing  my  friends,  as 
you  will  see,  but  when  I  wake  so  early  in  the  morning 
that  it  seems  to  be  night  I  have  great  shudders  some 
times,  but  in  the  daylight  I  fear  nothing.  Neverthe 
less,  I  hate  the  necessity  that  brought  forth  that  book.1 
After  a  thing  is  out  of  my  hands,  and  before  it  is  in 
them  again,  I  experience  the  peine  fort  et  dure.  I 
do  not  remember  what  I  have  said,  and  I  imagine  all 

1 "  A  New  Atmosphere." 


456     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

sorts  of  fearful  things.  Unseen  evils  are  the  most 
formidable,  and  this  time  the  eclipse  is  so  long  that  I 
have  time  for  all  manner  of  suggestions. 

I  have  no  complaint  of  my  own  to  make  against 
anyone,  nor  do  I  live  alone  — 

' '  God's  own  profound 
Is  above  me,  and  round  me  the  mountains, 

And  under,  the  sea, 
And  within  me  my  heart  to  bear  witness 

What  was  and  shall  be." 

All  this  gray  sky  and  gray  trees  and  gray  earth, 
what  is  it  but  a  mere  surface  fact,  the  shadow  of  the 
great  idea  ?  Under  all  the  lifelessness  and  the  dismal 
monotone  of  no-color,  the  sap  is  flowing  and  the  true 
life  only  waits  its  summons  to  leap  into  spring.  Down 
in  the  underworld  the  birds  are  singing,  the  fountains 
flowing,  the  violets  shining,  and  the  angels  of  God 
working  in  the  vineyards.  In  such  company  can  one 
ever  be  alone  ?  I  might  say,  as  a  little  creature  on 
the  house-top  of  Dickens  calls  to  the  old  man,  "  Come 
up  and  be  dead."  For  so  it  is  the  true  life  lies  in 
the  underworld,  and  all  that  is  good  in  this  is  only 
a  kind  of  trap-rock  interjected  through  the  fissures. 
Now  you  understand,  of  course.  You  know  geology, 
don't  you  ? 

If  you  are  chosen  I  shall  congratulate  as  heartily 
as  Hawthorne  did  Pierce  on  his  election  —  "Ah! 
Frank,  what  a  pity  !  " 

I  was  not  in  Boston  and  did  not  see  the  "  Kearsarge," 
but  I  wish  I  had  seen  it.  Harriet  Prescott  went  to 
the  Sailors'  Fair  and  was  bewildered  with  the  chang 
ing  splendors.  We  shall  have  it  reproduced  one  day 
with  added  lustre.  That  is  one  of  the  best  of  girls, 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  457 

a  hero  in  a  woman's  heart.     Nothing  is  half  good 
enough  for  her. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  sorrow  in  the  world,  and  it 
seems  to  me  there  must  be  a  final  heaven  for  every 
body.  My  only  remaining  uncle  on  my  father's  side, 
very  dear  to  us  all,  lies  at  the  point  of  death.  His 
only  child,  a  son,  unmarried,  has  only  a  long  loneliness 
before  him.  All  the  large  families  that  settled  on 
and  around  the  old  homestead  have  died  away,  and 
moved  away,  and  left  my  uncle  and  his  wife  and  son 
alone,  the  last  of  the  group,  and  my  very  heart  aches 
with  the  loneliness.  Sometimes,  do  you  know,  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  cannot  endure  all  the  pang  and 
heart-ache  in  the  world.  All  the  sorrows  that  I  know 
multiply  themselves  by  the  infinite  sorrows  that  I 
know  not,  but  only  feel,  and  it  weighs  down  upon  me 
so  heavily  that  I  cannot  tell  whether  I  was  ever  born, 
and  long  for  annihilation.  What  one  can  do  in  alle 
viation  is  such  a  drop  to  the  ocean,  and  if  God  is 
good,  if  there  is  any  true  God,  I  think  he  must  give 
to  all  these  suffering  ones  some  great  gladness,  by  and 
by,  which  shall  compensate  them  for  having  been 
created.  I  suppose  that  is  heterodox,  but  if  Ortho 
doxy  consigns  us  to  destruction,  what  can  heterodoxy 
do  worse  ?  I  don't  much  care  about  the  modus  ope- 
randi  apart  from  the  great  sacrifice,  but  I  do  not  see 
how  I  can  ever  be  satisfied  if  the  wretched  people  are 
not  finally  blessed  with  the  smile  of  the  Father  and 
the  Creator. 

HAMILTON,  MASS.,  October  31,  1864. 
I  trust,  Mr.  Wood,  that  you  take  no  credit  to  your 
self  for  your  long  letters.     I  would  fain  believe  that 
you  recognize  the  fact  that  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to 


458     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

you  to  recount  your  adventures,  and  that  you  are 
under  great  obligations  to  me  for  lending  you  my  ears, 
my  countryman,  and  giving  you  a  constituency. 
Upon  which  assumption  I  will  confess  and  avow  that 
your  letters  are  very  clever,  and  you  need  not  be  sur 
prised,  some  twenty  or  thirty  years  hence,  to  see  them 
issuing  from  a  printing-press  under  the  title  "  Shadows 
set  Free,"  or  l'  The  Letters  of  my  Double."  Of  course 
the  Substance  remaining  itself,  the  letters  must  come 
from  the  Shadow. 

To  take  up  the  most  important  part  of  your  letter 
first.  I  like  very  much  your  suggestion  about  my  hair, 
and  lack  only  the  moral  courage  to  adopt  it.  If  I 
ever  do  secure  sufficient  nerve,  I  shall  certainly  go 
through  the  world  shorn,  and  I  am  glad  I  have  at 
least  one  supporter  already  assured.  Meanwhile,  rest 
serenely  in  the  conviction  that  "  rats"  and  mice  are 
strangers  to  my  hair  —  nay,  they  will  not  even  go  into 
the  trap  which  I  have  set  for  them  up  garret. 

There  is  much  in  your  letter  that  needs  no  reply, 
though  it  is  all  interesting.  The  politics  I  read, 
ponder,  and  inwardly  digest.  Mr.  Welling  I  follow 
along  the  tortuous  course  in  the  "Intelligence,"  and 
only  regret  that  his -fine  powers  are  not  enlisted  on  the 
right  side.  What  a  pity  he  has  not  a  little  of  —  some 
thing,  perhaps  it  is  ideality,  that  would  crown  his 
intellect  with  the  upper  light !  As  it  is,  he  will  never 
knock  the  stars.  I  met  your  polished  Robert  C. 
Winthrop  the  other  day.  I  was  driving  with  an 
acquaintance  of  his  who  is  so  outraged  by  the  turn  he 
has  taken  that  he  refused  to  look  at  him  —  and  kept 
his  eyes  steadfastly  fixed  on  me,  which  was  much 
more  sensible. 

I  am  surprised  that  you  should  ask  me  my  author- 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  459 

ship  of  certain  articles.  In  the  first  place,  did  you 
ever  know  me  to  acknowledge  any  of  my  sins  of 
omission  or  commission  ?  In  the  second  place,  where 
have  you  burrowed  that  you  have  not  read  "  Essays  on 
Social  Subjects"?  In  the  third  place,  don't  you  see 
that  a  saying  no  may  at  some  future  time  necessitate 
a  saying  yes  ?  It  is  a  pity,  Mr.  Wood,  that  one  can 
not  read  your  very  witty  and  brilliant  political  romances 
without  wondering  how  much  allowance  must  be  made 
for  your  vivid  imagination  and  your  strong  sense  of 
poetic  justice  !  Now  I  suppose  you  will  put  on  your 
dignity  and  lose  your  temper. 

For  the  rest  I  went  to  Boston  the  other  day  and  to 
the  German  Opera.  But  then  I  went  to  the  Sunday- 
school  Convention  two  days  previously,  steadily,  so  I 
think  I  shall  have  absolution.  Query :  How  much 
Sunday-school  Convention  is  necessary  to  offset  one 
evening  of  German  Opera  ?  I  have  arrived  at  several 
conclusions.  One  is  that  as  a  civilizer  the  opera  is 
superior  to  the  Sunday-school,  as  a  Christianize!'  they 
are  about  on  a  par.  Another  conclusion  is  that  the 
present  style  of  waterfall  is  not  half  so  fine  a  feature 
of  natural  scenery  as  the  original  style  was.  A  third 
was  that  music  is  a  splendid  thing.  It  is  well  you 
were  not  there  to  hear,  as  you  would  have  fancied 
yourself  on  the  borderland  of  "  Future  Life,"  and  might 
have  astonished  your  friends  by  apostrophizing  Mrs. 
Jay  or  Perpetua  l ! 

We  have  had  our  one  hundred  and  fiftieth  anni 
versary  here  last  Thursday  evening,  the  27th  of 
October.  It  is  not  I  who  am  one  hundred  and 
fifty  years  old,  but  the  church,  of  which  I  am  chief! 
But  not,  perhaps,  the  chiefly  orthodox  in  the  com- 

1  Characters  in  "  Future  Life  or  Scenes  in  Another  World." 


460     ^AIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

mon  acceptation  of  the  term.  We  had  sundry 
extracts  from  old  sermons  and  old  records,  singing, 
not  operatic  so  much  as  rheumatic,  and  a  very 
good  meeting.  Seven  of  the  old  families  are  still 
extant  in  the  town,  one  of  them  the  Dodge.  Did 
you  know  we  have  a  new  minister?  His  name  is 
French.  He  is  young,  good-looking,  good  presence, 
and  very  satisfactory,  in  fact,  rather  more  than  satis 
factory.  We  ordained  him  on  the  29th  of  September, 
for  which  occasion  we  provided  cold  chicken  and 
et-ceteras  for  a  houseful,  but  as  it  rained  Columbiads 
and  Armstrongs  that  day  only  three  or  four  came, 
and  we  browsed  on  our  spoils  for  a  week  in  a  very 
contented  frame  of  mind.  The  meeting-house  was 
pretty  well  filled,  and  if  it  had  been  pleasant  I  dare 
say  our  streets  would  have  run  with  spectators.  I 
went  to  the  morning  council  that  examined  the  min 
ister  in  posse.  Mr.  Wood,  you  who  know  everything, 
tell  me  instantly  who  it  was  that  said,  "  Behold  with 
how  little  wisdom  the  world  is  governed."  At  the 
Sunday-school  Convention  I  tramped  about  much 
with  our  friend  Spaldiug,  of  Newburyport,  and  was 
brought  into  juxtaposition  with  Rev.  Charles  Beecher, 
of  Georgetown,  who  has  sorely  vexed  the  righteous 
souls  of  Parson  Pike,  of  Rowley,  and  the  Rev. 
Withington,  of  Newburyport,  and  others.  He  roared 
me  gently  as  a  sucking  dove,  and  indeed  you  know 
the  serpents  of  heresy  have  no  fangs  for  me. 

Our  Rev.  Johnson  has  returned  from  Europe  and 
called  here  the  other  day.  He  is  a  fine  young  man 
and  I  like  him  much,  but  I  wait  to  see  what  he  will 
become.  We  have  a  regular  church  house-cleaning 
whenever  we  ordain  a  minister.  I  scrubbed  all  the 
entries,  stairs,  and  the  whole  lower  floor,  unpaiuted, 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  461 

—  yes  I  did  !  Qni  facit  per  alium  facit  per  se!  and 
stepped  around  daintily  in  muslin  and  ribbons.  Your 
Miss  Webb  called  on  me  a  little  while  the  day  before 
ordination.  I  received  her  booted  and  spurred,  as  it 
were,  having  just  come  up  out  of  the  swamp  with  my 
arms  full  of  leaves. 

We  went  to  Salem  the  other  day,  —  four  women  and 
a  girl,  —  of  course  the  horse  whisked  around  under 
the  carriage,  of  course  it  was  close  by  a  railroad 
track,  and  J.,  heroic  as  ever,  jumped  over  the  wheel 
so  that  the  cars  did  not  come  along  and  run  over  us 
while  I  was  pulling  the  horse  around  right.  Do  you 
want  more  heroism?  Well,  some  of  the  Hawthornes 
have  been  to  see  me,  I  took  them  home  to  Montserrat, 
came  back  alone  at  night,  stable  horse,  dark,  never 
used  to  driving,  got  home  safe.  What  do  you  think 
of  that?  My  Gages  have  gone  to  Europe  without 
me.  My  Murphys  have  gone  out  West  and  they  return 
no  more. 

Mr.  Dodge  gave  an  agricultural  address  over  to 
Amesbury  the  other  day,  which  Mr.  Whittier  told  me 
was  the  best  they  had  ever  had,  and  another  obscure 
but  worthy  person,  a  native  of  Hamilton,  wrote  a 
song  for  the  same  corporation,  which  was  the  queen 
of  songs,  as  I  forced  Messrs.  Whittier  and  F.  to 
admit.  You  know  that  Whittier  has  lost  his  sister, 
but  Heaven  has  gained  her.  It  is  a  dismal  da}-.  We 
have  not  had  so  fine  a  fall  as  usual,  but  several  fine 
days,  one  glorious  maple  tree  and  many  magnificent 
scarlet  oaks.  Now,  with  many  hopes  for  the  election, 
the  army,  and  the  literary  but  shadowless  secretary 
of  the  treasures,  I  am  all  that  there  is  of 

M.  A.  D. 


462     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

[To  MR.  JAMES.] 

HAMILTON,  October  31,  1864. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  don't  remember  what  I  wrote 
in  my  hist  letter,  but  I  think  I  did  answer  yours,  only 
you  were  indifferent  and  put  it  away  in  your  mummy- 
case,  unrolled. 

This  and  this  and  this  is  the  truth  of  life,  says 
one.  Yes,  this  the  truth  of  life,  says  another,  in  an 
imperceptible  flash,  but  adds  alone  aloud,  "the  world 
has  not  yet  attained  the  truth  —  the  truth  seems  to  it 
only  lawlessness,  would  indeed  be  chaos  and  old 
niijht  to  it,  because  it  can  as  yet  see  of  spiritual  verity 
only  its  grossest  outward  symbol "  therefore  I  say 
of  this  spiritual  truth,  go  by  its  light  alone  whitherso 
ever  it  leads,  but  for  the  sake  of  those  who  must  be 
left  behind  in  all  the  deeper  darkness,  go  not  over  the 
height  of  the  shining  hills  where  the  light  leads.  You, 
Mr.  James,  sit  in  your  sky-parlor,  —  up  in  your 
heaven-kissing  attic,  and  browse  upon  the  eternal  fit 
nesses  of  things.  I  walk  about  on  the  pavements 
and  pastures  and  muse  upon  the  present  amelioration 
of  things.  I  don't  scold  you  because  you  live  in  the 
blue  sky,  and  you  shall  not  scold  me  because  I  dwell 
on  the  green  earth.  The  blue  sky  is  a  royal  magnifi 
cence  and  munificence,  but  the  green  earth,  though 
low  and  gross,  is  necessary  to  its  existence.  You 
cannot  have  the  spiritual  sky  without  the  material 
earth.  I  want  the  color  and  purity  and  clarity  of  the 
sky  to  penetrate  the  earth  till  it  shall  become  a  very 
heaven,  to  which  end  here  I  am  down  in  the  earth 
delving,  and  you  sitting  on  a  cloud  reviling  me  ! 

And  what  quarrel  have  you,  pray,  with  the  angels? 
And  what  has  the  devil  ever  done  for  you  that  you 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  463 

should  sot  him  up  above  Gabriel  and  Michael?  And 
even  if  you  do,  by  what  right  do  you  call  these  latter 
"sentimental"?  Oh!  I  never  saw  any  one  needed 
tinkering  so  much  as  you  do.  Most  people  are  so  far 
wrong  that  it  is  quite  hopeless  to  do  anything  for 
them.  All  that  remains  is  to  tear  them  down  and 
begin  new.  But  you  —  you  have  ever  so  much  good 
material,  admirably  seasoned,  only  you  are  naugh  — 
knotty  sometimes,  and  stubborn  to  plane  and  saw  and 
chisel.  Yes,  my  dear  Mr.  James,  it  pains  me  to  be 
forced  to  see  and  say  that  you  repeat  with  delight  in 
a  living  truth  the  very  same  thing  for  saying  which 
you  have  previously  hung  me  on  a  Hainan's  gallows ! 
But  you  say  it  in  a  sesquipedalian,  high-and-mighty 
metaphysic  way,  while  I  say  it  homelily,  and  bread- 
and-butterly,  and  the  consequence  is  you  do  not 
recognize  it.  You  do  not  see  your  pet  when  he 
comes  in  homespun.  He  must  be  tricked  out  in  the 
velvet  and  cockade  wherewith  you  have  decorated 
him. 

If  I  understand  you  at  all  aright,  after  all  your 
' '  vain  searching "  you  have  found  only  the  truth 
wkich  I  have  found  without  any  searching  at  all.  I 
hope  this  does  not  sound  pert  to  you,  for  it  does  to 
me.  But  it  is  not.  I  may  say  that  I  did  not  find  it 
at  all.  It  lay  in  my  way,  the  next  natural  thing,  and 
I  simply  adopted  it  as  I  did  the  sunshine  and  the 
dew.  I  do  not  think  it  possible  that  you  can  be  any 
more  strongly  convinced  than  I  of  the  typical  nature 
of  our  personal  relations,  nor  does  it  seem  to  me  that 
you  can  be  so  deeply  impressed  by  it  as  I,  for  it  is  at 
once  the  rule,  the  guide,  the  solace  of  my  life,  not 
sought  after  and  seized,  not  reasoned  out,  but  felt 
out,  presenting  itself  to  my  consciousness,  apart 


464    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

from  all  proof,  utterly  irresponsible  to  logic.  It  is 
so  true  to  me  that  life  has  positively  no  value  any 
farther  than  it  is  the  natural  outworking  of  the  in 
ward  essence.  And  you  come  up  and  ask  me  if  I 
believe  thus  and  so  ! 

This  main  underlying  organic  truth  is  mine  ;  but 
when  you  cut  it  up  into  all  manner  of  shadowy  ques 
tions,  then  I  do  not  know  what  you  would  be  at. 
What  is  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge  of  good 
and  evil?  Is  it  in  destruction  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree 
of  life?  I  should  think  the  innocence  of  wisdom  in 
distinction  from  the  innocence  of  ignorance  was  the 
direct  fruit  of  the  tree  of  knowledge. 

I  sympathize  with  poor  Mrs.  James  about  the  coal. 
I  have  no  doubt  she  leads  a  pretty  life  with  her  Socra 
tes,  and  I  am  heartily  glad  she  has  temper  enough  to 
make  you  blot  your  letters  in  consternation.  It  is  so 
much  better  than  to  sit  meekly  down  in  a  snow-bank 
and  freeze.  I  had  several  things  to  tell  you,  but 
there  is  imminent  danger  of  my  writing  again. 

For  the  present,  severely  but  kindly  yours, 

M.   A.  D. 

[To  MR.   WOOD.] 

NOVEMBER  21,  18G4. 

Three  letters  have  I  received  from  you,  or  rather  a 
preface,  a  letter,  and  a  postscript,  for  which,  see  my 
munificence,  I  have  returned  you  a  book,  a  newspa 
per,  and  am  now  writing  you  this  letter  after  a  hard 
day's  work  on  my  P>ench  raglau  of  1851,  which  my 
sister  and  I  are  fashioning  into  a  sack  of  1864,  all 
because  I  thought  it  was  a  pity  you  should  not  have 
a  letter  to  celebrate  Thanksgiving  with. 

The  last  shall  be  first,  viz.,  the  postscript.     I  will 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  465 

return  the  pen  to  you  with  some  misgiving,  for  I  do 
not  quite  see  how  metal  pens  can  be  made  into  goose 
quills.  Still  people  who  have  to  do  with  the  "Gen 
tleman  in  Black  "  accomplish  strange  transformations. 
Just  here,  for  I  must  say  things  when  I  think  of 
them,  did  you  see  that  Julia  Ward  Howe  had  a  poem 
at  Bryant's  festival?  My  sister  came  home  Saturday 
noon,  and  we  talked  you  over  well !  It  is  much  more 
interesting  to  have  people  who  know  your  friends 
than  it  is  to  know  them  only  yourself ;  and  as  we  all 
three  now  know  you,  why,  we  never  need  lack  a 
theme  !  Should  not  you  like  to  be  behind  the  door? 

For  the  main  body  of  your  letter,  Mr.  Wood,  you 
merit  not  merely  a  letter,  but  a  lecture  in  reply.  For 
you  to  be  haranguing  me  on  heterodoxy  is  —  well, 
entei'taining,  to  put  it  very  mildly.  Whenever  you 
see  an  organ  and  a  monkey  in  the  street  do  you  not 
always  ponit  it  out  as  a  foretaste  of  future  life  ?  And 
because  I  innocently  mentioned  the  opera  and  Sun 
day-school  in  the  same  breath,  why,  you  work  your 
self  up  into  octavos  of  wrath  and  anxiety ;  and  yet 
in  this  very  letter  you  say  worse  things  about  Sunday- 
school  than  I  did  in  my  letter  which  the  "  Congrega- 
tioualist"  would  not  print.  The  fact  is,  you  wish  to 
rove  at  your  own  sweet  will,  but  you  want  me  to  fol 
low  sweetly  in  the  paths  of  peace,  never  mind  whether 
they  lead  aright  or  astray. 

My  dear  Mr.  Wood,  your  letter  shows  me  one  thing, 
that  your  animosities  are  confined  to  this  world,  there 
fore  I  hope  that  in  the  "Future  Life"  you  will  be  able 
to  live  in  peace  with  the  brethren.  The  poor  E's  hav 
ing  departed  this  life,  I  see  you  have  rather  given  them 
over  and  turned  your  guns  against  Boston,  —  "  Fire 
away  !  "  I  would  say  to  you  as  the  Quaker  did  to  his 


466     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

friend,  "  Fire  away,  thee  can  never  go  to  Heaven  till 
thee  gets  all  that  bad  stuff  out  of  thee."  Now  I  should 
be  sorry  to  be  sitting  on  that  heavenly  hill  where  you 
place  me,  and  see  you  climbing  up  to  its  sides  fulmin 
ating  thunders  against  the  "Boston  Transcendeu- 
talists,"  some  of  whom  very  likely  will  be  within  hear 
ing,  for  I  trust  that  through  the  great  Divine  mercy 
many  of  them  will  bow  in  worship  to  the  God  whom 
now  they  ignorantly  worship  under  some  vague  ab 
stract  name.  And,  by  the  way,  —  I  don't  know  so 
much  about  these  things  as  you  seem  to  know,  —  but 
have  you  not  saddled  the  Bostouians  with  a  sin  that 
does  not  belong  to  them  ?  That  God  is  an  unrelated 
being,  and  cannot  therefore  be  known  to  men,  is 
taught  by  Hei'bcrt  Spencer,  but  I  have  never  heard 
it  from  the  Boston  or:icles.  Perhaps,  however,  Bos 
ton  is  only  a  generic  and  not  a  local  name  with  you, 
as  we  speak  of  the  "Lake  School"  of  poets.  Are 
you  quite  sure  that  you  are  not  drawing  on  your  im 
agination  for  some  of  the  romantic  facts  which  your 
memory  has  the  credit  of  furnishing  you  ?  I  never 
saw  Margaret  Fuller,  indeed  she  died  while  I  was  in 
school,  but  to  have  exercised  such  an  influence  as  she 
did  over  people,  it  seems  to  me  that  she  must  have 
had  some  other  weapons  than  "glittering  and  sound 
ing  generalities."  "Will  you  give  me  the  date  and  cir 
cumstances  of  J.  R.  Lowell's  remark  about  being  born 
twice?  You  will  pardon  my  cross-examination,  or 
you  may  avenge  yourself  by  cross-answering,  but  you 
very  well  know,  Mr.  Wood,  that  any  one  that  knows 
you  as  well  as  I  do,  knows,  too,  that  one  must  be 
wary  if  he  would  elicit  from  you  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth.  You  know  how 
many  times  I  have  routed  you  with  great  slaughter  by 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  467 

just  pinning  you  down  to  name  and  date  !  You  know 
very  well  how  only  last  summer,  when  my  sister  and 
I  were  driving  with  you,  you  began  a  very  vivid  but 
evidently  truthful  description  of  a  day  at  a  mild  water 
ing-place  hotel,  but  how  very  soon,  under  the  lash  of 
your  tyrannical  imagination,  you  were  galloping  off 
into  a  wilderness  of  "cats,  rats,  and  mice"!  That 
you  cannot  deny,  and  if  you  can,  here  is  my  sister 
just  come  upstairs  who  can  cover  you  with  confusion. 
Then  again,  Mr.  Wood,  I  am  sorry  to  be  forced  to 
say,  but  I  fear  it  is  true,  that  your  objections  to  my 
becoming  heterodox  lie  not  so  much  in  the  injuiy  that 
will  be  suffered  by  my  spiritual  nature  as  that  which 
will  be  inflicted  on  my  literary  reputation  !  If  I  attack 
the  great  forms  of  faith  in  Christ,  what  shall  I  find  too 
late  ?  Why,  that  my  power  will  be  gone  !  You  never 
can  get  over  the  carriages  of  the  nobility  and  gentry 
that  Baptist  Noel  forfeited  when  he  went  over  to  the 
Dissenters.  Oh,  Mr.  Wood  !  Is  there  no  such  thing, 
then,  as  inward  prompting  ?  Could  Baptist  Noel  do 
otherwise  than  he  did,  if  baptism  or  sprinkling  be  the 
question  you  Baptists  say  it  is?  However,  in  real 
earnest,  I  assure  you  that  you  need  have  not  the  least 
anxiety  on  my  account.  If  you  knew  me  as  well  as, 
with  your  opportunities,  you  ought  to  know  me  you 
would  see  that  the  more  I  am  thrown  into  contact  with 
any  one  form  of  religious  belief,  or  disbelief,  the  less 
likely  am  I  to  adopt  it.  I  shall  probably  remain  an 
Orthodox  Congregationalist  as  long  as  I  live,  but  to 
my  latest  breath  I  shall  doubtless  be  at  war  with  my 
brethren.  If  I  were  a  Baptist  I  should  remain  a 
Baptist,  but  a  fighting  Baptist;  if.  a  Unitarian,  a 
Unitarian,  but  pugilistic  still.  In  whatever  sect  my 
associations  had  been  formed,  I  should  have  found 


468     (JAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

truth  enough  entangled  with  error  enough  to  take  me 
all  my  life  to  disentangle.  So  far  as  you  fear  any  influ 
ence  of  Boston  transcendentalism  upon  my  faith,  in 
the  way  of  social  power,  your  fears  cannot  be  any 
more  groundless.  I  am  certainly  not  wont  to  be  over 
awed  in  matters  of  opinion.  But  at  the  same  time  I 
accept  all  your  warning  as  gratefully  as  if  it  were 
needed,  knowing  that  it  proceeds  only  from  the  kind 
est  and  worthiest  motives. 

What  makes  me  write  letters  to  all  the  world?  Do 
you  suppose  I  call  it  benevolence  ?  Not  a  bit.  It  is 
just  because  I  like  to  write.  I  like  the  world  enough, 
but  I  certainly  should  not  lay  myself  out  in  reams  for 
pure  affection.  Now  just  you  stand  up  and  lay  your 
hand  on  your  heart  and  tell  me,  if  you  can,  that  you 
don't  really  like  to  take  a  set  of  clean  nice  note-paper 
and  fresh  ink,  and  a  good  evening,  and  sit  down  and 
write. 

Why  do  you  think  that  the  States  must  come  back 
with  slavery  ?  Why  cannot  the  next  Congress  give  us 
the  Constitutional  Amendment  just  as  well  as  the  last? 
I  shall  never  ground  arms  until  slavery  is  abolished. 
Go  on  with  your  political  "  Romances."  I  dare  say 
the  air  of  romance  which  they  have  is  owing  to  your 
way  of  putting  things.  In  Mr.  Seward's  hands  they 
would  doubtless  read  like  the  gravest  State  papers, 
and  not  be  any  truer. 

I  never  did  see  the  "Social  Essays"  till  they  were 
printed  in  Boston.  Does  "  New  Atmosphere  "  seem 
to  you  sufficiently  orthodox?  I  heartily  commiserate 
you  in  the  reading,  but  it  is  one  of  the  wise  arrange 
ments  of  a  benevolent  Providence,  that  in  this  world 
the  innocent  as  well  as  the  guilty  must  suffer  the  pen 
alty  of  sin. 


BUSY   YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  469 

As  for  Mr.  Longfellow's  peccadilloes,  I  do  not  be 
lieve  in  them.  They  are  always  trumping  up  stories 
about  plagiarisms.  So  now  "The  Raven"  was  stolen 
from  a  Persian  poem.  Suppose  he  did  get  "  Evange- 
line  "  from  Hawthorne,  what  then  ?  Did  not  Shak- 
spere  crib  bodily  and  boldly  from  the  old  plays? 
Virgil  copies  Homer  like  a  school-boy,  and  nobody 
says  anything;  and  I  should  like  to  know  if  Peter 
Schlemihl  did  not  walk  through  the  length  and  breadth 
of  Germany  before  he  set  his  foot  on  our  Western 
shores.  Mr.  Wood,  you  must  fight  down  all  these 
stories  and  not  entreat  them  tenderly.  Anybody  can 
make  a  mountain  out  of  a  mole-hill.  Do  you  stand 
with  your  shillelah  and  affirm  resolutely  that  the  mole 
hill  shall  stay  a  mole-hill. 

My  connection  with  the  "  New  Magazine  "  will  be 
as  close  as  I  choose  to  make  it.  I  shall  have  none 
of  the  labor  to  do,  the  scissorings,  selecting,  etc.  I 
should  never  undertake  anything  of  that  sort,  it  would 
be  so  very  irksome  to  me,  but  advice,  you  know,  and 
opinion  I  am  always  ready  to  give  without  much  urg 
ing.  Poor  man,  you  know  it  to  your  cost. 

My  mother  and  sister  desire  their  kindest  regards 
and  I  am  judiciously,  sometimes  severely,  but  always 
Very  truly  yours, 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

I  did  not  know  of  Mrs.  Piatt's  death.  She  was  a 
woman  of  a  thousand  —  brilliant  and  courted,  yet 
considerate  and  tender-hearted.  I  admired  her 
much. 


470     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

[To  MR.  FRENCH.] 

DECEMBER  19. 

It  was  selfish  in  me  to  write  you  a  letter  that  should 
leave  an  impression  of  sadness.  But  in  truth  I  had 
cause  for  sadness  in  my  own  heart.  The  sudden  and 
severe  illness  of  my  uncle,  death-struck  almost  from 
the  beginning,  was  not  a  hilarious  event,  and  I  felt 
the  loneliness  of  my  aunt  and  cousin  so  deeply  that  I 
could  not  shake  it  off.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  me 
that  I  suffer  things  more  sharply  than  the  people 
themselves  suffer  them.  Then  I  had  a  cold  on  my 
lungs,  so  that  every  breath  was  an  annoyance,  a  thing 
that  never  happened  to  me  in  such  measure  before, 
and  never  but  once  in  any  measure.  Then  when  I 
looked  at  you  there  was  a  heavy  shadow,  and  in  an 
other  direction  there  was  another  shadow.  Well, 
what  I  ought  to  have  done  was  to  sit  still  till  the  sun 
came  out. 

Now,  first,  my  cough,  after  making  a  brave  fight, 
is  quite  gone  ;  secondly,  my  aunt,  having  a  good  woman 
for  a  companion  in  her  desolated  house,  is  settling 
down  to  her  new  half-life  and  my  uncle's  memory, 
freeing  itself  from  all  remnant  of  infirmity  and  dis 
ease,  gathers  soft  lights  and  is  blessed.  You  are 
emerging  from  shadow  slowly  into  the  sun,  and  my 
other  friend  sees  day  breaking.  For  all  which  let  us 
give  God  thanks. 

A  part  of  your  letter  rather  amused  me,  more  than 
your  serious  opinions  are  apt  to  do.  I  really  do  not 
exactly  know  whether  I  am  a  happy  woman  or  not. 
I  never  thought  much  about  it  one  way  or  the  other. 
This  I  know,  that  if  I  were  obliged  to  crystallize  on 
the  spot,  and  with  things  as  they  are,  and  no  other 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  471 

futurity,  I  should  be  a  very  miserable  woman.  I 
know,  too,  that  if  I  were  forced  to  consider  my  pres 
ent  attainments  as  the  highest  possible  point  of  acqui 
sition —  in  knowledge  or  in  happiness  —  I  should  be 
a  very  miserable  woman,  but  with  constant  activity 
and  a  deep,  underlying  hope,  "a  fire  in  my  heart, 
and  a  fire  in  my  brain,"  I  cannot  conscientiously  call 
myself  unhappy.  It  is  only,  however,  when  I  com 
pare  what  I  have  found  with  what  I  conceive  to  be 
possible,  that  I  have  any  doubts  on  the  subject. 
Looking  at  the  life  which  presents  itself  to  me  in 
dreams,  and  then  at  the  life  by  which  I  find  myself 
surrounded,  there  is  room  perhaps  for  a  shiver.  I 
often  rouse  myself  from  the  one  for  the  other  with  a 
smile  at  the  discrepancy.  Yet  even  this  does  not 
make  me  unhappy,  for  I  have  so  large  and  deep  a 
hope,  which  you  would  incontinently  pull  to  pieces 
with  your  remorseless  logic,  but  which,  thank  Heaven, 
would  immediately  grow  again  as  good  as  new.  But 
when  I  compare  my  life  with  the  lives  around  me, 
with  nine  out  of  ten  of  all  the  lives  I  know,  I  esteem 
myself  indeed  favored  of  Heaven,  and  thank  God  for 
a  most  undeserved  preeminence  of  happiness,  and 
pray  that  I  may  do  good  enough  to  my  fellow-beings 
to  compensate  them,  as  it  were.  Here  is  where  your 
reasoning  amuses  me.  I  do  not  deny  that  through 
weakness,  weariness,  impatience  I  may  sometimes 
be  a  little  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  but  it  is  not  on  the 
crest  of  any  billow  that  I  ever  saw,  that  I  would  have 
my  ship  go  riding.  I  never  have  thought,  nor  pro 
fessed  to  think,  that  the  actual  unmarried  life  was  so 
happy  as  the  ideal  married  life,  but  I  assure  you  with 
entire  seriousness  that  nothing  which  my  own  life  has 
missed  has  given  me  a  tithe  of  the  disturbance,  I 


472     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

might  almost  say  despair,  which  I  have  found  in  the 
terrible  bewilderments  of  the  married  lives  I  have 
seen.  I  could  well  do  without  happiness  myself  if  I 
could  only  see  a  possibility  of  happiness  in  the  expe 
rience  of  others.  It  is  not  so  much  not  to  have  experi 
ences  ;  a  certain  emotion  yourself,  though  it  may  be 
the  deepest  and  richest  of  all,  because  you  have  all 
the  eternities  before  you ;  the  dreadful  thing  is  to  have 
felt  and  failed.  That  appalls  me.  This  I  can  assure 
you  most  truly,  and  if  you  are  my  friend  you  will  be 
glad  of  the  assurance  —  loneliness,  as  you  mean  it,  is 
a  sensation  which  I  have  never  felt,  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge  and  belief.  I  am  afraid  to  be  in  the  house 
alone  nights,  and  day-times,  too,  for  that  matter ;  but 
let  me  know  that  there  is  a  trusty  person  downstairs 
to  keep  out  robbers  and  ghosts,  and  I  can  sit  in  my 
own  room  day  and  night  alone,  and  never  tire.  I  do 
not  mean  that  I  do  not  know  an  aloneness,  nor  that 
I  cannot  conceive  of  something  that  would  be  better, 
but  as  far  as  mortal  companionships  go,  I  have,  let 
me  see,  at  least  five  men  and  no  end  of  women  who 
are  more  friends  to  me  than  most  men  are  to  their 
wives.  I  find  in  them  more  sympathy,  more  resource, 
more  sustenance,  more  tangible,  practical,  honest, 
real  help  than  most  women  find  in  their  husbands, 
and  two  of  them,  at  least,  and  perhaps  three,  and 
possibly  four,  are  more  agreeable  to  me  than  most 
husbands  are  to  their  wives.  I  like  their  society  bet 
ter,  they  exert  themselves  far  more  to  entertain  and 
please  me,  they  have  more  consideration  and  chivalry. 
You  will  say  I  don't  know  what  husbands  are  to  their 
wives,  but  make  me  believe  it  if  you  can. 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  473 

JANUARY  11,  1865. 

The  fact  is  you  have  made  so  many  displays  of 
clear  vision  that  you  almost  deceived  me  into  a  belief 
of  universal  clarity,  and  so  I  thought  I  would  sweep 
away  a  little  mist  that  seemed  for  a  moment  to 
obscure  you.  But  the  mist  was  as  solid  as  granite, 
and  I  only  bruised  my  fingers.  It  is  the  second  time 
in  my  life  I  have  been  confronted  with  outr&  reasons 
for  simple  facts  of  that  nature.  The  first  time  it  was 
face  to  face,  and  I  was  stunned  into  silence,  which  is 
easy  for  any  personal  presence  to  do.  This  time,  un 
fortunately,  it  was  pen  to  pen,  and  then  I  always  find  it 
difficult  to  hold  my  tongue.  Hereafter  we  will  dismiss 
the  serious  affairs  of  life,  and  discuss  agricultural 
colleges,  Harvard  University,  and  other  frivolities. 

Your  two  ill-bred,  ignorant  Irishers  may  or  may 
not  be  the  happier  for  their  marriage.  If  their  ill- 
breediug  and  ignorance  could  be  confined  to  them 
selves  I  should  not  forbid  the  banns.  Ignorance 
clubbed  together  is  no  greater  in  bulk  than  ignorance 
separate ;  but  it  is  morally  certain  that  in  the  course 
of  time  they  will  have  brought  into  their  household 
seven  other  spirits  more  ignorant  and  ill-bred  than 
the  first,  and  surely  nine  deformed  and  degraded 
souls  are  a  greater  evil  than  two.  Parents  and  sisters 
and  brothers  and  sisters  may  not  be  uniformly  lovely, 
and  yet  help  you  to  "  grow  in  grace,"  —  but  they  are 
born  to  you.  Husbands  and  wives  go  by  favor ;  and 
though  from  a  broken  arm  you  may  learn  patience, 
which  is  a  Divine  virtue,  you  would  hardly  think  of 
putting  your  arm  under  a  locomotive  that  you  might 
learn  the  Divine  virtue  of  patience. 

I  hope  you  will  accept  the  Agricultural  College,  for 


474     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

I  think  it  will  be  the  best  thing  both  for  the  college  and 
for  yourself.  As  you  don't  seem  to  look  forward  to 
Heaven  very  cheerfully,  it  seems  a  pity  you  should 
not  get  out  of  earth  all  you  can.  For  me,  I  am 
afraid  I  am  hopelessly  transcendental,  and  I  foresee 
we  should  not  get  on  at  all  well  together,  either  in 
this  or  any  other  world,  except,  indeed,  on  your  prin 
ciple  of  trituration. 

I  hear  this  morning  that  our  friend  Mrs.  S.  has  a 
son,  in  which  I  rejoice  for  two  reasons :  first,  because 
in  a  general  way  I  a?n  sorry  for  every  baby  girl  that 
is  born  ;  and  because,  secondly,  if  a  boy  baby  ever 
can  come  to  anything  it  will  be  under  Mrs  S's 
training  ! 

I  went  to  mill  the  other  day  and  was  weighed,  to 
the  extent  of  a  hundred  and  nine  pounds;  with  my 
cloak  and  "things"  on  a  hundred  and  fifteen.  I 
understand,  as  I  never  did  before,  "the  mills  of  the 
gods  grind  slowly,  but  they  grind  exceeding  small." 
Mother  wanted  her  meal  fine,  and  consequently  we 
had  long  to  wait,  but  I  watched  with  great  interest. 

[To  Miss  PALFREY.] 

HAMILTON,  January  24,  1865. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  wish  you  were  at  hand  to  read 
Virgil  with  me.  You  cannot  think  how  much  I  enjoy 
it  —  not  the  mere  reading  only,  but  everything  about 
it.  (That  is  a  lucid  sentence.)  The  text  is  a  mere 
rivulet  running  through  a  meadow  of  association,  and 
hints  and  all  manner  of  connections  that  1  saw  nothing 
of  when  I  read  it  as  a  girl  at  school,  where,  by  the  way, 
I  perceive  I  was  a  far  more  exemplary  person  than 
your  ladyship.  So  far  from  doing  "  no  more  studying 


BUSY  YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  475 

than  I  could  help,"  T  did  all  the  studying  I  could  get 
hold  of.  In  fact,  I  fear  all  my  goodness  came  out 
in  my  early  days,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  I  have 
been  so  bad  since  I  was  grown  up.  I  wish  you  would 
read  "  Azarian,"  for  I  think  it  has  a  great  deal  of 
power,  and  power  of  a  kind  of  which  Miss  Prescott 
had  before  that  given  but  small  indication.  By  the 
way,  she  sent  to  me  a  little  while  ago  to  know  if  I 
could  tell  her  anything  about  E.  Foxton.  An  un 
known  correspondent  of  hers  had  requested  her  with 
the  greatest  eagerness  to  tell  him  something  about  that 
gentleman,  whose  story  of  "Herman"  he  considered 
to  be  the  very  finest  in  all  American  literature.  I  did 
not  feel  at  liberty  to  divulge  my  conjectures,  because 
][  think  personality  is  always  to  be  vigorously  re 
spected. 

My  dear,  I  hope  you  will  find  it  in  your  heart  to 
like  me  a  little,  notwithstanding  all  the  rough  work  I 
am  doing.  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  stand  on  my 
safe  knoll,  and  see  the  wild  waves  swallowing  up  my 
people,  and  make  no  effort  for  the  rescue.  My  toss 
ing  lifeboat  is  less  graceful  than  the  little  skiff  which, 
as  Virgil  says,  — or  something  like  it,  — cleaves  the 
green  trees  in  the  placid  lake  ;  but  perhaps  it  is  not 
wholly  out  of  place. 

[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

JANUARY  25,  1865. 

What  is  the  good  of  quarrelling  in  a  world  like 
this?  Of  course  we  are  all  of  us  more  or  less  out 
rageous  to  our  friends  at  times,  and  we  may  as  well 
own  up  to  it  and  let  it  alone.  My  mother  says  you 
have  all  been  poisoned.  It  was  my  arrows  that  did 
it,  undoubtedly,  only  you  will  not  confess.  As  to 


476     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

your  eyes,  I  am  sure  yon  have  nothing  to  complain  of. 
I  have  been  half  blind  ever  since  I  was  two  years  old 
and  have  seen  more  at  that  than  was  for  my  comfort. 
All  you  have  to  do  is  when  you  are  looking  at  pleas 
ant  things  like  me,  open  the  double  eye  and  shut  the 
single  one,  and  when  you  are  looking  at  unpleasant 
ones,  vice  versa.  That  is  good  Latin,  isn't  it?  Any 
way,  if  you  grow  blind  I  will  come  to  see  you,  for  I 
don't  care  about  my  looks  either,  and  I  will  lend  to 
the  rhyme  of  the  poet  (myself)  the  beauty  of  my 
voice,  till  you  shall  bless  the  darkness  that  unfolded 
to  you  the  heaven  of  my  song !  My  voice  is,  in  fact, 
something  between  a  shriek  and  a  howl,  —  in  poetry  I 
don't  know  what  it  might  be, —  but  you  will  know 
when  you,  I  beg  your  pardon,  go  it  blind  ! 

I  see  some  of  the  abuse  of  you  in  the  newspapers 
and  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  Now  see  how  differ 
ent  I  am  from  you.  You  read  something  about  me 
and  go  right  and  believe  it  and  tell  all  the  neighbors. 
Why  can't  you  be  good  and  trustful,  and  think  like 
young  Abijah,  you  may  see  some  good  thing  can  be 
found  in  me  even  if  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  relig 
ious  newspapers  do  affirm  the  contrary?  It  does  not 
seem  as  if  people  can  do  any  tiling  for  people  when 
trouble,  actual  trouble  comes.  Everybody  must 
bear  his  burden  alone.  If  I  cry  my  eyes  out  about 
you  it  won't  cry  your  eyes  in. 

I  don't  believe  your  brother  described  me  in  his 
journal.  It  was  somebody  else.  He  never  saw  me 
but  a  little  speck,  and  then  he  did  not  remember  me 
from  five  hundred  others,  and  besides,  T  wasn't  in 
Washington  till  I  was  ages  past  twenty,  some  kind  of 
ages  you  know,  little  children's  for  instance,  and  I 
did  not  wear  my  hair  like  a  boy's,  it  was  parted  in 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  477 

the  middle  like  a  girl's,  if  it  was  short,  and  oh !  I 
wish  you  would  not  mention  the  subject  of  hair. 
You  never  would  if  you  knew  what  a  source  of 
annoyance  it  is  to  me  and  my  family.  My  one  con 
solation  is  that  I  am  getting  on  towards  the  time 
when  it  will  be  lawful  to  wear  a  cap  and  then  I  hope 
to  have  some  peace  of  my  life.  Now  I  have  only 
pieces,  mere  jumbles.  Well,  and  to  make  assur 
ance  of  your  brother's  mistake  doubly  sure,  I  never 
was  a  wonder  in  anybody's  presence  especially,  only 
wonderfully  heavy  for  anybody  who  had  so  much 
sense.  Now  then  if  you  have  anything  nice  and 
pleasant  and  highly  imaginative  to  tell,  out  with  it, 
but  if  it  is  disagreeable,  pre-Raphaelitic,  and  true  to 
the  life,  claudite  rivos  —  what  does  that  menu?  I 
press  it  in  at  a  venture. 

JANUARY  30. 

I  am  afraid  I  am  getting  into  the  pious  fraud-ulent 
way,  but  if  I  am,  I  alone  shall  bear  it.  while  if  I 
should  blurt  out  the  stories  which  seem  to  be  rife,  I 
should  salve  my  conscience  at  the  expense  of  the 
peace  of  the  whole  family,  and  I  am  sure  the  Lord 
told  Samuel  out  and  out  in  so  many  words  that  it  was 
not  necessary  to  tell  the  whole  story,  even  when  the 
suppression  of  part  put  an  entirely  different  com 
plexion  on  the  rest. 

FEBRUARY  13,  1865. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  WOOD  :  A  budget  received  from  you 
on  Saturday  violates  the  Constitution  in  telling  me 
that  you  are  sick,  so  I  infer  that  you  are  violating 
your  private  constitution  in  some  manner  not  herein 
before  mentioned.  Wherefore,  I  have  to  desire  that 


478     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

you  will  at    once   adopt    the    fashion   of   the  hour  — 
which  is  Constitutional  Amendment. 

I  have  four  different  parcels  from  you  since  my 
last  to  you.  One  a  queen  bee,  the  others  small 
working  bees,  let  alone  various  insects  in  the  shape 
of  "  Punch,"  and  other  papers,  which  are  now  making 
the  tour  of  the  neighborhood.  But  I  wonder  that 
your  right  hand  did  not  wither  in  writing  such  terrible 
heresy  about  Edward  Everett.  In  fact  it  is  quite 
possible  that  your  illness  is  a  direct  consequence  of 
such  unparalleled  audacity.  Edward  Everett,  who 
we  are  all  agreed  is  the  greatest  man  that  ever  was 
thought  of,  and  will  continue  to  be  until  some  other 
distinguished  Bostonian  dies !  Don't  you  see  how 
magnanimous  we  are  here  in  New  England?  A  man 
may  sin,  but  he  has  only  to  repent,  and  we  forgive 
him  and  bury  him  with  every  honor. 

I  agree  with  you  regarding  the  "sheeted  ghosts." 
I  suspect  the  Blairs,  even  bearing  Olive  Branches. 
But  as  the  report  has  been  spread  before  the  people, 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  President's  part  has  been 
wisely  taken.  If  anything  must  have  been  done,  I 
do  not  see  that  it  could  have  been  better  done.  But 
I  like  not  anything  that  brings  that  wretched  rebel 
and  traitor  and  starver  of  prisoners,  Jefferson  Davis, 
into  even  temporary  relations  of  equality  and  amenity 
with  respectable  Northern  people  ! 

To  ascend  at  once  from  politics  to  personalities. 
As  for  the  raglan,  money  cannot  buy,  in  these  days  of 
shoddy,  cloth  so  heavy  and  every  way  desirable  as 
this  French  cloak  of  eight  years  ago  !  Oh,  you  petro 
leum  parvenu !  Don't  you  know  that  newness  is  not 
always  worth?  Oh,  unfortunate,  infatuated  man, 
smitten  with  judicial  blindness,  not  to  see  that  gold  is 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  479 

none  the  less  gold  because  the  land  is  flooded  with 
paper  currency.  Shall  I  discard  my  yellow  eagles 
because  greenbacks  are  "all  the  go"?  You  sweep 
over  a  page  with  your  all-comprehensive  charges, 
and  all-amusing  stories,  and  I  follow  you  up  with  an 
interrogation  point.  You  ought  to  be  very  thankful. 
If  yon  had  no  check  your  centrifugal  —  I  mean  truth- 
ifugal  —  force  would  dash  away  with  you  into  some  cold 
outer  space  where  you  would  never  more  be  heard  of. 

I  don't  on  principle  accept  your  presentation  of 
Boston  principles.  It  is  never  safe  to  trust  your 
opponent  for  a  fair  and  full  exposition  of  your 
belief. 

"Moods"  I  have  not  read.  "  Emily  Chester"  I 
have  read,  and  do  not  feel  myself  tainted  in  the 
smallest  degree  by  so  doing.  There  is  no  tainting 
element  in  the  book.  It  is  pure  as  the  snow  that 
spreads  over  this  New  England  where  I  write,  and 
no  one  can  see  anything  impure  there  unless  his  organ 
of  vision  is  impaired.  But  the  truth  is  that  our 
standard  of  right  and  wrong  is  so  low  that  evil 
seems  to  us  good,  and  good  evil.  Of  all  the  criti 
cisms  of  "Emily  Chester  "  which  I  have  read,  very  few 
show  any  real  comprehension  of  the  book.  They 
know  what  they  are  talkiug  about,  but  they  know 
very  little  of  what  that  book  talks  about. 

My  aunt,  Mrs.  Caldwell,  of  Ipswich,  was  buried 
about  a  week  ago.  She  died  after  a  week's  illness 
of  lung  fever.  You  may  have  seen  the  notice  of  her 
death  in  the  "Congregationalist."  She  was  very  dear 
to  us  all,  a  remarkable  woman,  of  great  independence, 
spirit,  ability,  and  amiability.  She  was  a  little 
younger  than  my  father. 


480     (JAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

[To  Mu.  FRENCH.] 

MARCH  1. 

I  went  to  Newburyport  to  hear  Mr.  Garrison  cele 
brate  Washington's  birthday  in  his  native  town, 
from  which  five  and  thirty  years  ago  he  was  thrust 
out.  So  there  he  sat  upon  the  platform,  a  bland  old 
man  with  a  shining  white  head,  a  few  side-locks 
brushed  smoothly  down  by  his  ears,  a  conservative, 
solid-mau-of-Boston-lookiug  person,  with  not  the 
smallest  evil  design  against  the  existing  order  of 
things.  Mr.  Colby,  —  is  it,  —  the  Editor  of  the 
4'  N.  Herald,"  who  blows  hot  and  cold  as  occasion  di 
rects,  was  tropical  that  night  and  blew  fever  heat,  but 
William  Lloyd  stood  it  like  a  man  instituting,  I 
suppose,  an  equilibrium  from  all  this  present  eulogy 
with  past  obloquy.  That  evening  I  was  invited  to 
supper  with  him  and  the  next  morning  drove  over 
with  him  to  Whittier's,  where  I  remained  till  Saturday, 
feeling  as  I  always  do  with  Whittier  a  kind  of  demi- 
goddess,  simply  by  force  of  association,  not  from 
any  inward  spouting.  And  so  Garrison  and  Whittier 
reminisced,  with  Mr.  Ashby  and  me  for  an  audience, 
and  I  saw  the  inside  of  many  things  of  which  I  had 
previously  seen  only  the  outside,  and  even  that  often 
through  a  glass  darkly.  I  also  went  to  a  concert 
in  Newburyport.  Miss  Carr  sang.  Miss  Carr  is  a 
Newburyport  girl.  Miss  Carr  came  on  the  stage,  a 
dream  of  beauty.  Now  your  sardonic  soul  laughs. 
How,  you  say,  can  a  Newburyport  Yankee  be  that? 
We  have  dreams  of  Italian  beauty,  of  Greek  loveli 
ness,  but  oh,  old  Essex  County,  where  are  the  charms 
that  sages  have  seen  in  thy  face  ?  In  Newburyport, 
sir,  in  Miss  Carr's  wavy  hair  and  waxen  face  and 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  481 

delicately  clearly  pencilled  eye-brows,  in  her  doll-like 
(!)  beauty,  informed  with  a  sweet  young  soul,  and 
beauty  and  soul  made  doubly  beautiful  by  the  mod 
esty,  simplicity,  and  unpretence  which  characterized 
her.  See  now.  They  are  sending  me  the  "Lady's 
Book  "  from  Philadelphia,  and  I  looked  into  it  last 
night  and  discovered  several  things,  and  thereupon  in 
our  family  circle  a  discussion  arose  and  revelations 
were  made,  and  they  tell  me  that  these  beautiful 
waterfalls  and  Greek  curls  and  all  the  lovely  bows 
and  crinkling  things  wherewith  "  my  sisters  "  make 
themselves  beautiful  are  as  likely  as  not  false.  You 
can  buy  them  at  the  barber's.  You  do  buy  them  at 
the  barber's.  Why,  then,  /  might  have  waterfalls  and 
Greek  curls  as  well  as  another.  But  I  know  they 
would  all  come  tumbling  off  just  at  the  crisis  of  fate 
and  bring  mo  to  shame. 

I  saw  Mrs.  S's  baby  in  the  bath-tub.  He  is  six 
weeks  —  a  fine  baby  as  babies  go,  but  a  most  comi 
cal  little  frog,  squirming  about  in  the  water  with  dis 
tress  pictured  on  every  lineament  of  his  droll  little 
face,  a  most  un-human  little  creature,  and  it  doth  not 
yet  appear  what  it  shall  be.  And  I  saw  Mrs.  S.,  too, 
who,  u  most  gracious  lady,"  all  this  while  entertained 
me  in  royal  style  as  she  always  does. 

Nothing  is  the  matter  with  your  eye.  I  had  a  fork 
stabbed  into  mine  once,  but  'twasn't  anything.  It 
squints  a  little,  but  that's  nothing.  My  lovers  tell  me 
it  makes  me  look  interesting.  It's  blind  too,  but  what 
of  that?  One  eye  answers  every  purpose.  To  be 
sure,  there  is  this  difference  between  us  —  that  my 
beauty  never  was  injured  by  it,  for  the  very  best  of 
reasons,  while  your  comeliness  has  sufficient  existence 
to  be  in  danger.  Now  good-by,  and  mind  your  eye  ! 


482    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

For  the  "  Congregationalist  "  I  have  written  little 
for  three  months.  My  last  effusion  was  a  tilt  in  favor 
of  Dr.  Blagclen,  but  it  was  refused  admittance.  The 
fact  is,  Mr.  Wood,  I  suppose  I  am  getting  too  rad 
ical,  or  something.  But  really,  I  am  the  one  who  is 
Orthodox,  and  they  are  falling  away  after  profane 
and  old  wives'  fables. 

Mr.  R.,  the  escaped  Union  prisoner,  has  been  down 
to  see  me.  He  is  turning  an  honest  penny  with  his 
adventures.  But  Jefferson  Davis  did  a  good  thing 
when  he  broke  his  "  plighted  faith,"  and  kept  those 
sharp-sighted  men  in  prison  to  witness,  eye  to  eye,  the 
atrocities  winch  he  caused. 

I  went  to  see  Mr.  John  Porter  in  Newburyport. 
Isn't  he  the  nicest  old  man  that  ever  was,  with  his 
beautiful  long  white  hair,  and  his  tall  figure  scarcely 
bent,  and  his  gentle,  gracious  manner?  Old  age  is  so 
lovely  when  it  is  lovingly  worn.  His  daughter  was 
ill  and  I  did  not  see  her,  nor  Harriet  Prescott,  who,  I 
fear,  is  failing  before  her  time  under  a  burden  too 
heavy  for  such  slender  young  shoulders  as  hers.  Did 
I  tell  you  I  saw  "  Zenobia  "  in  Boston  the  other  day? 
I  won't  tell  you  what  I  think  of  it,  because  it  was  made 
by  a  Boston  girl,  and  you  would  only  scoff,  entirely 
regardless  of  the  fact  that  she  was,  and  I  suppose  is, 
a  friend  of  the  Brownings,  and  therefore  must  have 
somewhat  of  either  wit  or  worth. 

[To  MR.  JAMES.] 

MARCH  20,   1865. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  think  I  should  feel  happier 
if  you  would  let  me  just  this  once  tell  you  how 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  483 

much  I  thank  you  for  all  your  patience  and  goodness 
and  kindness  to  me.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  you  are 
going  away  from  me  thinking  all  the  while  that  I  have 
reckoned  your  friendship  a  common  thing. 

I  should  have  counted  it  all  joy  if  I  could  have 
held  you  within  sight  all  my  life,  but  it  is  a  very  great 
joy  to  have  known  you  for  a  year.  It  makes  me 
feel  guilty  to  think  how  entirely  I  have  the  best 
of  the  bargain.  I  know  I  have  given  you  a  little 
pleasure,  but  you  have  given  me  solid  good  that 
will  last  me  as  long  as  I  live.  I  don't  think  I  have 
rejoiced  in  you  because  you  spoke  kindly  words  to 
me,  though  that  was  very  pleasant,  but  then  I  al 
ways  made  allowance.  I  knew  that  what  you  saw 
was  not  I,  but  a  little  rosy  cloud  exhaled  from 
your  own  imagination  in  which  I  sat  hidden  away 
as  snug  as  a  grasshopper  in  his  foam  —  you  don't 
know  what  that  means  because  grasshoppers  don't 
grow  in  Ashburton  Place,  but  never  mind,  /  know, 
—  but  what  I  was  going  to  say  is,  that  if  in 
any  other  way  I  could  have  come  to  an  equal  knowl 
edge  of  your  thought  I  should  have  held  you,  I 
think,  in  the  same  regard.  So  that  now,  you  see, 
I  do  not  lose  you.  I  know  with  an  inward  satis 
faction  that  somewhere  there  is  living  such  an  one, 
and  if  one  man  has  found  heaven's  gate,  then 
surely  there  is  a  Heaven  and  all  men  will  yet  press 
into  it.  So  all  that  I  care  for  in  you  I  own  and 
hold  forever. 

Therefore,  when  you  look  back  upon  this  don't 
think  it  is  all  thrown  away.  In  one  sense  it  is,  I 
suppose.  Probably  the  thing  you  thought  to  do  can 
not  be  done,  and  I  cannot  prevent  your  disappoint 
ment.  But  when  the  sunshine  came  I  felt  that  it 


484     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

was  warm  and  that  it  came  from  heaven,  and  you 
know  it  is  the  sun's  way  to  shine  upon  the  evil 
and  the  good,  and  not  think  it  time  lost. 

I  am  permanently  rich  in  having  known  you,  —  this 
little  while,  —  and  I  would  not  for  the  world  you 
should  lift  an  eyelash  to  look  my  way  and  leave 
your  own.  All  I  desire  is  that  you  shall  believe, 
whatever  else  I  may  or  may  not  be,  I  am  always, 
most  truly  and  inwardly,  your  loyal,  grateful,  and 
reverent  friend,  though  I  am  too  little  and  too  far  off 
to  be  of  any  account  to  you. 

Quod  erat  demonstrandum. 

M.  A.  DODGE. 

Men  with  all  their  badnesses  are  so  susceptible  of 
goodness  that  simple  sincerity  will  shame  all  their 
badness  out  of  sight.  Meet  them  on  the  ground  of 
their  best  and  they  will  give  you  no  other  ground  to 
stand  on.  If  I  judged  men  only  by  their  relations  to 
my  own  self,  I  should  hardly  have  a  word  to  say. 
They  may  be  ever  so  wrong-headed,  but  practically 
they  always  turn  to  me  right-hearted.  I  only  see 
what  men  are  at  their  worst  by  looking  at  them  as 
you  look  at  faint  stars  —  obliquely.  What  men  are 
to  their  wives,  to  their  dependents,  that  men  are. 
They  are  capable  of  better  things,  but  that  they  are. 
The  time  languishes  because  woman  cannot  reveal 
herself.  The  great  burden  of  material  life,  which  her 
shoulders  were  never  made  to  bear,  weighs  down 
upon  her,  and  the  whole  creation  groans  and  travails 
in  pain  as  a  consequence.  With  the  consent  and  by 
the  interference  of  the  great  mass  of  men  the  ox,  the 
mule,  the  draught  horse  is  regnant  in  the  female  man, 
and  the  woman  is  held  in  abeyance.  How  can  she 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  485 

reveal  herself?  If  you  will  use  fine  gold  for  pots  and 
kettles,  how  can  you  cause  that  they  shall  not  be  dis 
guised  with  crock? 

Look  at  me.  I  have  friends  on  every  side  who  de 
light  in  me,  men  and  women  who  come  to  me  for 
joy,  and  solace,  and  strength.  Is  it  because  I  am 
better,  or  brighter,  or  stronger  than  other  women? 
Not  the  least  in  the  world.  I  am  constantly  meeting 
women  whose  shoes'  latchets  I  am  not  worthy  to 
unloose,  but  to  whom  nobody  ever  comes.  It  is 
solely  because  I  have  never  been  overborne  by  hard 
physical  labor,  nor  undermined  by  the  unspeakable 
disappointments  of  marriage.  God  has  suffered  me 
to  keep  my  life  in  my  own  right  hand.  I  have  never 
been  crushed  —  I  have  never  been  oppressed.  These 
other  women,  better  than  I,  with  more  capacity  than 
I,  with  higher  possibilities  than  I,  are  mere  household 
drudges,  insignificant  wives,  uncommanding  mothers, 
because  they  are  buried  under  an  Ossa  on  Pelion 
piled,  of  degrading  labor  without  supporting  love. 
They  passed  in  their  youth  under  the  yoke  of  a  man, 
and  the  yoke  was  hard  and  the  burden  heavy.  And 
just  as  long  as  their  necks  are  bowed  to  them,  women 
cannot  reveal  themselves.  The  sole  advantage  that 
I  have  over  other  women  is,  that  I  stand  in  the  sun 
shine.  If  I  were  married  the  chances  are  ninety-nine 
in  a  hundred  that  I  should  be  digging  in  the  dark, 
down  in  a  cellar  where  all  the  dead-alive  women  are. 
People  are  accustomed  to  see  beasts  of  burden,  and, 
accordingly,  when  they  see  me,  a  woman,  they  are 
pleased  with  the  novelty. 

You  understand,  Mr.  Henry  James,  I  think  you 
are  deeply  and  thoroughly  right  in  your  main  idea. 
I  do  not  remember  that  I  ever  met  a  man,  hardly  a 


486     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

woman,  whose  underlying  principle  was  so  satisfac 
tory,  so  ultimate,  so  restful  as  yours.  So  far  as  I 
come  in  contact  with  men,  they  unconsciously  swerve 
into  my  orbit,  —  never  mind  if  the  metaphors  don't 
"go  on  all  fours,"  —  because  I  am  a  woman  under 
full  headway ;  and  in  the  collision  of  sincerity  with 
falsehood,  or  perhaps  I  ought  to  say  error,  the  error 
must  go  down.  When  a  man  comes  so  near  me  that 
I  can  touch  him,  he  cannot  help  himself,  but  turns 
into  pure  gold  —  or  at  least  the  pure  gold  that  existed 
in  him  in  solution  is  precipitated  into  visibility  ;  and 
if  I  were  a  wandering  Jewess,  and  could  be  the  wife 
of  every  man  I  see,  I  never  would  touch  pen  to  paper 
to  reform  the  world.  Mind,  I  could  not  have  done  it 
if  I  had  married  him  before  I  had  myself  waked  to 
consciousness,  but  I  could  do  it  now.  But  you  see 
that  is  impossible  ;  so  I  can  only  do  the  next  best 
thing,  and  work  for  men  and  women  at  a  disadvan 
tage. 

What  woman  does  for  you,  Mr.  James,  is  to  "  put 
your  spiritual  instincts  on  the  research  of  infinite 
things"  by  her  "  formal  loveliness,  grace,  and  tender 
ness."  But  suppose  by  the  severity  of  your  exactions 
you  mar  her  loveliness,  maim  her  grace,  and  forbid 
her  tenderness  ?  Suppose  you  impel  her  downward 
so  entirely  that  even  her  own  spiritual  instincts  are 
well-nigh  lost,  and  all  her  soul  becomes  of  the  earth, 
is  it  encouraging  rivalry  between  the  sexes  for  me  to 
tell  you  so  ?  When  we  see  a  man  beating  his  wife, 
will  you  stand  apart  and  talk  to  him  of  "vivified  self 
hood,"  and  shall  I  flow  around  him  in  silver  silence? 
Not  a  bit  of  it !  I  will  double  up  my  fist,  and  give 
him  one  good,  sharp,  stinging  blow  between  his  eyes, 
and  if  it  knocks  him  down  so  much  the  better.  Nine 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  487 

men  out  of  ten  are  so  pachydermatous  that  they  don't 
know  they  are  touched  unless  they  are  felled.  Then, 
while  he  lies  conscience-smitten,  his  wife  may  pro 
ceed  to  array  herself  in  white  robes,  and  his  own 
outraged  spirit  shall  return  to  him  again.  I  will  pour 
in  oil  and  wine,  you  shall  feed  him  with  your  heave nly 
manna,  and  presently  we  shall  have  him  sitting  with 
his  wife  clothed  in  fitting  garments  and  in  his  right 
mind.  But  till  the  beast  within  him  is  stabbed,  all 
your  music  of  the  skies  is  but  as  the  clatter  of  sound 
ing  brass  and  tinkling  cymbals. 

Can  you  not  see  that  I  am  as  far  as  possible  from 
instituting  any  rivalry  between  the  sexes  or  aiding 
any  battle?  I  am  for  peace,  for  harmony,  for  unity. 
I  do  believe  that  the  world  is  a  failure  because  it  has 
been  so  exclusively  man's  world  ;  but  then  I  believe 
it  would  have  been  just  as  much  a  failure  if  it  had 
bren  exclusively  woman's  world.  The  world's  work 
needs  to  be  done  by  man  and  woman  together.  But 
by  world's  work  I  do  not  mean  simply  digging  canals 
and  hewing  stone,  but  making  of  earth  heaven,  which 
surely  can  be  done,  for  the  kingdom  of  God  is  within 
you.  In  science,  art,  politics,  is  there  no  spiritual 
truth  aud  beauty  hidden  under  all  this  coarse  outward 
seeming?  I  verily  believe  there  is,  aud  that  it  will 
throw  off  its  cerements  and  rise  into  lovely  life  when 
the  virgin-born  Messiah  bids  it  come  forth.  In  the 
treatment  of  science  aud  politics  the  womanly  element 
has  had  hitherto  little  part.  We  should  have  fared  just 
as  ill  had  the  manly  element  been  omitted ;  but  when 
both  are  brought  to  bear  on  the  same  end,  though  not 
perhaps  in  the  same  way,  we  shall  see  how  that  which 
was  so  base  and  dull  held  in  its  ungainly  bosom  the 
very  brightness  of  the  firmament. 


488     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Is  this  rivalry  between  the  sexes  ? 

The  thorn-tree  will  never  produce  figs,  but  since 
God  made  it,  it  must  have  its  uses,  which  we  will  dis 
cover,  and  its  beauty,  which  we  may  learn  to  love. 
The  paving-stones  will  never  be  rubies,  but  they  may 
become  very  precious  stones  when  they  bear  up  the 
feet  that  are  swift  to  do  only  good.  You  say  that 
men  recognize  women  as  God's  shrine  in  our  nature 
only,  etc.,  etc.,  as  they  are  content  to  make  home 
sweet  and  holy.  Content  —  content  —  why,  it  is 
the  one  sole  longing  and  love  of  women  to  make 
home  holy  and  sweet.  They  have  no  other  thought 
or  desire,  and  all  that  these  women  want  is  the  possi 
bility  to  make  it  so. 

And  I  belong  to  the  woman's  rights  women.  I 
belong  to  all  —  to  those  who  suffer,  and  those  who, 
however,  clumsily,  are  trying  to  mitigate  suffering. 
The  brawniest  Amazon  that  ever  stalked  over  the 
pavement,  the  vilest  harlot  that  ever  crouched  in  the 
cellars  beneath  it  —  I  belong  to  them  all.  I  have 
not  gone  through  the  world  with  my  heart  naked, 
shuddering  against  all  the  world's  woes,  and  quiver 
ing  with  all  its  pain,  that  I  should  gather  my  skirts 
from  the  dust  and  walk  softly  away  to  green  pastures 
and  still  waters.  I  am  pure,  I  am  blameless  only 
just  so  far  as  I  go  down  into  these  sad  places  and 
pour  over  them  all  a  warm,  human  sympathy.  If  I 
hug  my  virtue,  away  in  some  vale  of  Tempo,  I  am  of 
all  creatures  most  vile.  What  shall  be  my  thank- 
offering  to  God  for  having  set  my  feet  on  a  dry 
place,  if  not  unceasing  effort  to  help  all  struggling 
souls  to  come  up  hither  to  me  and  breathe  with  me 
the  pure  air  and  stand  by  my  side  in  the  sweet 
sunshine? 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  489 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

MARCH  27,  1865. 

The  Mr.  R.  of  whom  I  spoke  is  A.  D.  Rich 
ardson,  one  of  the  "Tribune"  correspondents,  who 
was  eighteen  months  in  Rebel  hands.  He  is  a  gentle 
manly  person,  of  wit  and  humor,  very  agreeable,  not 
handsome,  a  good  writer,  well  informed,  etc.  He  is 
a  kind  of  Bohemian,  and  he  thinks  I  am,  but  I  am 
not,  nor  should  I,  on  any  account,  think  of  going  to 
New  York.  I  have  neither  the  desire  nor  the  inten 
tion  to  seek  society  of  any  kind,  nor  to  use  any  ap 
pliances.  You,  Mr.  Wood,  as  I  have  often  told  you, 
are  clean  given  up  to  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  this 
world.  You  use  fine-sounding  phrases  in  your  let 
ters,  but  you  know  you  would  give  every  cent  of  your 
twenty  thousand  dollars,  this  minute,  to  have  me,  a 
handsome  woman,  at  the  head  of  a  marble  Fifth  Ave 
nue  sort  of  house-ruling  society,  and  you  a  witness 
and  worshipper!  Don't  you  know  that?  Now  I  dare 
say,  if  these  things  were  in  my  power,  —  as  you  think 
they  are,  —  I  might  set  higher  value  on  them  than  I 
do  ;  but  as  it  is,  I  am  extremely  well  content  with  my 
country  hills  and  my  spring  chickens,  and  I  seriously 
think  your  game  is  not  worth  the  candle.  As  a  para- 
graphist  for  any  paper,  I  think  I  should  lose  every 
thing  and  gain  nothing.  I  rather  think,  if  I  grow 
good  all  I  can  here,  I  shall  do  very  well.  At  any 
rate,  here  is  the  place  where  God  has  put  me,  and 
here  I  stay  till  He  bids  me  hence. 

Mr.  Edward  Everett  I  shall  have  to  put  on  the 
shelf  with  the  Connecticut  saints.  You  grow  rabid 
at  the  mere  flutter  of  his  mantle.  But  your  insinua 
tions  against  Whittier  pass  by  me  as  the  idle  wind ! 


490     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Don't  you  see  that  what  might  be  fulsome  in  Bos 
ton  might  be  magnanimous  in  Amesbnry?  "Whittier 
knows  nothing  of  all  you  say  against  E.  E.  He  has 
probably  seen  him  only  as  I  have  seen  him — "a 
rose  of  Academe."  He  has  stood  up  against  him  all 
his  life  till  the  last  four  years  with  a  bravery  un 
daunted.  But  now,  standing  on  the  grave  of  his 
fallen  foe,  he  generously  forgets  all  his  evil,  so  far  as 
possible,  or  merges  it  in  the  purer  glow  of  the  sunset 
hour. 

By  the  way,  I  gave  one  of  your  portraits  to  my 
Minnesota  sister  to  take  home  with  her.  She  desired 
me  to  say  that  she  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  pleasure 
in  your  letters  tliis  winter,  and  expected  to  take  a 
good  deal  more  in  looking  at  your  picture  in  her 
Western  home.  They  have  '•  Future  Life,"  so  that 
they  feel  tolerably  well  acquainted  with  you.  They 
left  for  Minnesota  a  week  ago  Saturday.  I  went  to 
Boston  with  them,  and  we  went  to  see  and  hear  the 
Great  Organ,  which  really  seems  to  me  more  grand 
every  time  I  hear  it.  Such  tempests  of  sound,  and 
such  tender  little  thrills  of  melody. 

I  don't  think  I  was  made  for  an  editor.  I  should 
lose  more  by  failure  than  I  should  gain  by  success, 
and  success  I  could  not  compass.  The  undertaking 
would  be  too  difficult,  and  my  reputation  now  is 
ahead  of  ray  deserts.  One  of  my  unknown  admirers 
sent  me  an  elegant  picture  the  other  day,  elegant  and 
beautiful  and  nicely  framed.  I  have  "  lots "  of 
books  sent  me,  and  I  am  as  busy  as  a  bee  from 
morning  to  night,  week  in  and  week  out,  and  the 
summer  is  coming,  and  the  blue-birds  and  robins 
have  been  here  a  week,  and  the  grass  is  already 
growing  green  on  our  bank,  and  altogether  it  is  going 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  491 

to  be  very  nice  when  it  grows  a  little  warmer,  and  I 
get  well  of  my  cold.     Good-by. 

[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

MARCH  27. 

If  I  ever  see  your  sister  H.  I  am  going  to  have  one 
talk  about  you.  She  is  a  bright  woman,  and  she 
knows  you,  and  is  not  your  wife ;  three  things  not 
often  combined,  yet  all  three  necessary  to  a  satisfac 
tory  talk,  such  as  I  propose  to  myself.  I  don't  know 
whether  I  should  like  to  be  "a  little,  young,  pretty 
girl  always,"  or  not.  I  should  have  to  try  it  first  to 
see,  and  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  going  off 
into  such  a  series  of  fireworks  about  me.  If  I  say 
the  least  little  innocent  thing,  such  as  anybody  might 
utter  without  thinking,  why  up  you  fly  in  a  shower  of 
fiery  sparks  to  descend  and  consume  me.  And  your 
notions  about  beauty  —  I  beg  your  pardon  —  are  all, 
or  chiefly,  nonsense.  Pretty  people  are  just  as  clever 
as  ugly  people.  I  don't  doubt  Miss  C.  is  the  most 
sensible  girl  of  her  circle.  Anyway,  she  sings  finely, 
and  that  is  something.  Do  you  imagine  I  should  be 
any  more  silly  than  I  am  now,  if  I  were  tall,  with  dark 
eyes  and  smooth  hair,  and  manners,  and  presence,  and 
dignity?  And  don't  you  believe  you  would  be  an 
unpleasant  sort  of  man  if  you  had  had  a  kingdom, 
and  an  army,  and  freedom  and  glory,  and  had  lost 
them  all,  and  had  to  have  your  picture  taken  while 
you  were  trudging  through  the  dusty  streets  barefoot 
and  chained  behind  the  coach  of  the  man  who  had 
conquered  you?  And  if  you  had  not  seen  Miss  Hos- 
mer's  portrait  I  should  have  thought  the  first  thing 
you  would  do  when  I  asked  you  how  you  liked  it 
would  be  to  go  immediately  and  see  it. 


492     ftAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

APRIL  3. 

If  my  hand  seems  somewhat  shaky  don't  mind  it. 
Just  as  I  sat  down  to  write  you  a  wretch  of  a  pedlar 
came  to  the  end  door.  I  opened  it  and  he  came  in, 
I  falling  back  gradually.  He  was  so  odd  that  after 
he  had  gone  I  went  to  the  window  to  see  what  became 
of  him.  He  had  disappeared,  and  I  went  into  the 
parlor  to  look  up  the  road,  and  there  was  the  miscre 
ant  looking  in  at  the  window.  I  was  so  scared  that  I 
lost  all  consciousness  of  fright  (sensible,  isn't  it?), 
and  I  went  to  the  front  door  and  flung  it  wide  open, 
and  ordered  him  away,  and  the  villain  was  as  gallant 
as  you  please,  —  '•  Vay-y  fine  parlor,  vay-y  fine  par 
lor,"  and  bowing  and  smiling.  Oh,  how  I  wanted  to 
be  a  man  and  knock  him  down,  and  now  I  am  afraid 
he  was  taking  observations,  and  will  come  back  to 
night  and  break  into  the  house.  What  do  you  think? 
I  wish  I  was  skilled  in  gunnery.  Isn't  there  a  shoot 
ing-school  in  Boston  where  I  could  take  lessons?  If 
the  war  should  be  over  pretty  soon  don't  you  suppose 
I  could  get  a  pair  of  Columbiads  cheap? 

Well,  I  have  alarmed  the  neighborhood,  and  now 
things  must  take  their  course ;  but  the  vile  creature 
looked  so  strong.  I  foresee  I  shall  not  write  you  any 
kind  of  a  letter,  for  that  pedlar  keeps  running  in  my 
head.  Besides,  I  am  watching  all  the  time  to  see  if 
he  comes  back.  Oh,  if  there  wasn't  ever  any  night, 
how  glad  I  should  be  !  I  can  stand  things  in  the  day 
time  when  I  can  see  them,  but  this  darkness  that  peo 
ples  the  earth  with  phantoms,  and  turns  all  things 
into  giants,  and  dragons,  and  ghosts !  What  a  pity, 
what  a  pity  that  Eve  ate  the  apple,  and  then  there 
wouldn't  have  been  any  pedlars.  We  have  a  great 
Indian  war-club,  and  if  I  can  get  at  him  just  as  he  is 


BUSY   YEARS   IX   HAMILTON  493 

climbing  in  at  the  window  about  midnight,  I  shall 
knock  his  brains  out  without  the  least  remorse,  and 
think  it  is  the  best  use  they  can  be  put  to ;  but  I  am 
afraid  I  shan't  wake  up  till  he  gets  all  in,  and  then 
it'll  be  my  brains. 

APRIL  4. 

You  ought  to  be  very  anxious,  but  I  don't  suppose 
you  are,  still  I  am  going  to  relieve  the  anxiety  which 
you  ought  to  feel,  by  informing  you  that  I  still  live, 
and  that,  thanks  to  the  excellent  police  system  which 
I  improvised  yesterday,  we  slept  in  peace.  Thanks 
to  that  and  Providence,  of  course,  I  mean.  I  went 
up  street  and  asked  a  man  who  was  going  to  Parish 
meeting  to  watch  the  pedlar,  and  see  what  became  of 
him.  So  he  did,  and  when  the  pedlar  came  back  the 
man  came  too,  and  marched  into  the  barn  and  around 
the  house  as  lordly  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  the  family, 
which  I  thought  was  very  kind  in  the  man,  don't  you? 
and  then  I  gave  him  fifty  cents  and  asked  him  to  be 
at  the  station  when  the  trains  came,  and  see  that  the 
pedlar  went  away,  and  come  and  tell  me,  which  he 
did,  ringing  the  bell  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  I  got 
out  of  bed  and  went  to  the  window,  and  concluded 
the  business.  Meanwhile,  Mr.  D.,  with  his  usual  kind 
ness,  had  come  over  and  spent  the  evening,  and  Mr. 
French,  the  minister,  ditto,  almost  which  is  what  we 
call  a  levee  in  Hamilton,  and  to-day  the  old  clock 
ticks  as  usual,  and  I  am 

Yours  respectfully. 

And  Richmond  is  taken  — 
"  For  joy-bells  and  chorus 
The  passion  comes  o'er  us 
To  ring  and  to  sing 
For  the  tidings  that  bring 
The  downfall  of  treason  in  vision  before  us." 


494     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Unfortunately,  somebody  has  stolen  the  halyards, 
or  something,  of  our  flag,  so  we  cannot  raise  it,  and 
we  have  no  voice  for  our  joy. 

But  there  is  one  thing  I  have  as  well  as  you,  my 
learned  and  honorable  friend,  and  that  is  maple  mo 
lasses.  It  came  from  Keene,  sir.  It  came  from 
Surry,  sir,  which  is  beyond  Keene.  It  is  not  molasses, 
sir,  it  is  syrup.  It  is  the  molten  Liquid  of  Life,  sir. 
It  is  the  distilled  essence  of  sunshine,  ruddy  as  the 
wine  of  Hafiz,  and  sweet  as  the  voice  of  Contariua. 
It  is  four  dollars  a  jug,  sir,  and  the  jug  sixty-five 
cents,  and  I  wish  we  had  a  row  of  them  all  around 
the  house,  big  enough  to  contain  Ali  Baba  and  his 
Forty  Thieves.  Now,  if  your  fountain  among  the 
reeds  will  spout  up  a  constant  stream  of  maple  syrup, ' 
why  count  upon  my  constancy  ?  My  flower-gardeu  is 
verj'  well,  thank  you,  and  deserves  to  be  remembered. 
It  is  a  little  under  the  weather  just  now,  but  as  soon 
as  we  get  the  old  shop  moved  up  for  our  pantry,  and 
a  man  to  come  and  plough,  and  plant,  and  sow,  then 
I  know  another  man  whom  I  am  going  after  to  come 
and  trim  up  my  garden,  and  I  am  going  to  pick  out 
the  stones  from  it,  and  pave  a  pathway  through  the 
front  yard,  where  it  is  all  grass  now,  which  is  lovely, 
but  damp.  The  peonies  are  already  coming  up,  and 
I  am  taking  time  by  the  forelock  and  watering  the 
garden  now,  so,  if  it  have  a  camel's  stomach,  it  will 
not  suffer  from  next  summer's  droughts. 

If  things  would  be  sure  to  happen  just  as  you  want 
them  to  happen  I  should  be  delighted  to  see  you, 
but  they  never  do.  Something  awkward  would  come 
and  spoil  everything.  I  will  tell  you,  if  you  will  be 
good  and  not  cross,  and  I  am  good  and  we  get  into 
a  beautiful  world  after  this,  I  will  be  very  intimate 


BUSY  YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  495 

and  particular  friends  with  you  and  invite  you  to  my 
house  on  the  slightest  provocation.  But  you  must 
not  go  about  among  flowers  and  fruits  and  fine  young 
ladies  and  pots  of  butter  and  then  take  credit  to  your 
self  for  not  being  cross.  You  must  be  pawed  and 
clawed  from  morning  till  night  with  disagreeable 
things,  and  still  be  amiable.  That  will  be  something 
to  reckon  on.  You  should  have  seen  the  house  I  saw 
in  my  dreams  the  other  night,  and  it  was  mine,  so 
stately,  and  all  shadowed  with  vines  and  magnificent 
trees,  and  summer  breathing  through  all  the  coolness 
—  such  an  indescribable  air  of  comfort,  and  dignity, 
and  elegance,  with  all  manner  of  rural  loveliness 
blooming  and  breathing  over  it,  in  which  respect  it  is 
not  unlike 

Yours  very  truly. 

HAMILTON,  April  15. 

MY  DEAR  :  I  meant  to  write  you  to-day,  but  the 
dreadful  news  this  morning  has  dispirited  us  all  and 
there  seems  little  interest  in  anything.  The  time 
seems  chosen  for  the  purpose  of  making  the  shock 
greatest,  and  we  can  only  say  with  "  Perley,"  God 
help  the  United  States !  There  is  doubtless  good  to 
come  from  this  great  calamity  and  wickedness,  but 
as  yet  it  is  impossible  to  see  what  the  good  is.  It  is 
no  new  thing  for  kings  to  be  assassinated,  but  such 
butchery  as  this  has  seldom  been  seen  and  never  in 
this  country. 

Mary  came  last  Friday  in  the  midst  of  the  rain  and 
stayed  till  Monday  morning.  Parker  Pillsbury  also 
called  in  the  afternoon  —  at  the  front  door  ;  I  thought 
he  was  an  agent  and  opened  the  door  just  a  crack, 
but  when  he  announced  his  name  I  admitted  him  to 


496    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

full  communion.  He  stayed  for  an  hour  or  so  —  was 
odd,  individual,  interesting.  He  designed  to  lecture 
here,  took  dinner  at  Mr.  Israel  Brown's,  and  won  him 
over  to  his  side. 

In  the  afternoon  Jose  and  Melly  came,  and  Mr. 
Dodge  brought  me  a  copy  of  li  Skirmishes  and 
Sketches."  He  had  been  to  Boston  and  seen  Mr. 
Fields,  who  told  him  that  they  had  had  very  large 
advance  orders  for  it,  that  it  was  all  ready  to  be  pub 
lished  but  they  were  waiting  for  the  excitement  to 
abate  somewhat  —  alas,  that  it  is  not  abated  but  swal 
lowed  up  in  a  new  and  more  terrible  one !  Alas  for 
the  good  man  cut  down  in  his  prime !  Alas  for  the 
country  that  has  lost  its  first  citizen  ! 

"  For  the  Stars  on  our  banner  grown  suddenly  dim, 
Let  us  weep  in  our  darkness,  but  weep  not  for  him." 

I  hope  he  read  my  note  with  his  own  eye  — but  T  sus 
pect  it  is  doubtful.  I  told  him  his  rest  should  be 
glorious  when  it  did  come,  but  I  did  not  think  it  would 
be  so  glorious,  nor  so  swift  in  coming. 

Wednesday  evening  I  went  to  P.  Pillsbury's  lecture. 
It  was  interesting  and  well  received,  but  was  more 
retrospective  than  reconstructive,  and  was  therofore 
less  valuable  than  I  had  hoped  it  would  be.  The 
audience  was  small  and  so  was  the  collection.  "  Red 
Letter  Days  "  is  going  through  the  press. 

SPRING,  1865. 

Wednesday  I  had  a  letter  from  a  Mrs.  Pitman  of 
Providence,  a  friend  of  Whittier's,  who  had  learned 
from  him  that  he  thought  I  might  go  to  Quarterly 
Meeting  at  Newport,  and  wished  me  to  visit  her  in  P. 
Thursday  (25)  Dio  Lewis  sent  me  another  invitation 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  497 

to  visit  them  at  Lexington,  which  was  declined  with 
thanks.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Flitner  called  a  few  minutes 
to  answer  a  letter  which  I  sent  to  uncle  and  aunt  and 
which  Mrs.  Cowles  declares  ought  to  be  published  in 
my  memoirs. 

Harrison  Porter  came  over  and  killed  our  rooster,  to 
my  deep  regret.  He  was  the  best  rooster  I  ever  saw. 
I  have  heard  of  their  being  gallant,  but  never  saw  one 
before  —  but  he  was  a  model  of  chivalry,  the  very 
soul  of  unselfishness,  clucked  like  a  hen  to  her  chicks, 
and  never  seemed  to  eat  anything — almost  flew  at 
me  whenever  I  made  trouble  among  the  hens.  But 
he  is  gone  —  into  a  chicken-pie  !  I  had  a  letter  from 
New  York  offering  unlimited  salary  to  contribute  to 
the  new  paper  "The  Nation,"  also  from  Philadelphia 
ditto  —  for  another  paper.  Both  declined.  Thurs 
day,  Fast  Day,  we  went  to  Manchester,  resolving 
that  we  would  have  kept  the  day  scrupulously  if 
it  had  been  the  day  first  appointed.  Also  we  had 
a  half  intention  of  going  to  church,  and  as  the  bell 
rang  in  Beverly  Farms  just  as  we  got  there,  we  halted 
and  went  into  a  Baptist  meeting-house  and  heard  a 
very  loyal  sermon. 

[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

APRIL  27,  1865. 

I  am  going  to  write  to  you  to  say  that  I  send  you, 
with  this,  a  copy  of  "  Skirmishes  and  Sketches," 
which  I  happen  to  have  in  my  possession.  I  should 
have  sent  it  before,  only  it  is  not  worth  sending. 
We  have  fourteen  chickens,  all  healthy  and  handsome, 
and  I  have  bought  some  flower  seeds,  and  a  prairie- 
rose,  and  a  bush-honeysuckle,  and  a  cl-e-u-t-z-i-e  (?), 
and  geraniums,  and  daisies,  and  feverfews,  and  things, 


498       GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

and  a  man  came  and  set  out  the  great  trees,  and  I 
shall  put  in  the  mustard  seeds  myself ,  and  to-day  is 
cloudy  and  warm  and  I  have  been  out-doors  three 
hours,  including  breakfast  and  a  few  such  trifles. 

The  pedlar  did  not  do  any  harm  by  looking  into 
the  window.  I  like  to  have  people  looking  in  at 
windows,  it  is  so  social. 

I  congratulate  you  on  your  watch-chain,  but  dear 
me,  I  have  two,  and  watches  besides.  One  is  in  my 
watch-case,  and  the  other  is  planted  in  the  Connecticut 
valley  somewhere.  The  first  my  scholars  gave  me, 
and  two  summers  ago  I  went  to  walk  in  Hartford 
across  the  fields  and  lost  it,  and  then  a  man  gave  me 
another,  a  beauty,  in  a  hunting-case,  and  don't  you 
tell  of  it,  for  my  mother  does  not  know  it  to  this  day. 

Was  not  I  good  to  keep  it  from  her  ?  I  killed  three 
hundred  thousand  caterpillars  yesterday.  Fire.  But 
a  good  many  of  them  are  alive  this  morning. 

MAY  6,  1805. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  W. :  I  have  three  letters  from  you 
like  Jeremiah's  figs,  the  last  good,  very  good,  the 
first  very  bad,  not  fit  for  the  pigs.  No,  Mr.  Wood, 
I  will  not  flatter  you.  The  letter  you  send  me  this 
morning  is  so  excellent  that  I  am  moved  to  have  it 
framed  and  glazed,  taken  to  the  meeting-house,  and 
read  from  the  pulpit  at  the  very  least.  The  last  long 
one  that  preceded  it  was  so  bad  that  I  was  quite  out 
of  conceit  with  you  — a  hateful,  fault-finding,  "can 
tankerous  "  spirit,  which  you  must  cast  out  neck  and 
heels  if  you  expect  ever  to  have  a  good  time  with 
Mrs.  Jay  and  Perpetua,  and  Frankie, — low,  mercen 
ary,  worldly,  self-sufficient,  evil-concentrating.  Now 
I  suppose  you  expect  me  go  into  particulars.  Not 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  499 

I  —  to  justify  iny  accusations.  No,  sir,  I  have  not 
looked  at  the  letter  since  that  morning,  and  now  you 
have  come  out  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian  once 
more,  so  let  by-gones  be  by-gones.  By  the  way, 
what  would  you  give  to  read  your  "character"  by 
Mrs.  Rollins.  She  understands  you  extremely  well, 
I  think,  considering  she  has  seen  you  so  little,  but 
she  is  a  seeing  woman,  and  of  uncommon  intellectual 
acuteness  and  power. 

Your  little  carte  de  visile  (is  that  the  way  to  spell 
it?)  is  going  into  the  handsomest  frame  that  can  be 
found  for  it. 

My  new  dress  is  a  kind  of  travelling-dress.  Mrs. 
F.  and  I  bought  it.  I  was  up  there  staying  three  or 
four  days,  and  we  went  shopping  and  I  bought  every 
thing  she  told  me  to  —  an  English  straw  hat,  trimmed 
with  blue  and  brown  velvet,  with  a  stunning  blue 
feather,  long  and  twisted  and  the  most  magnificent 
color,  price  that  would  have  delighted  the  pomps  and 
vanities  of  your  worldly  heart,  and  an  elegant  and 
fashionable  sack,  with  alarming  buttons,  the  prettiest 
in  Hovey's  (I  believe  it  was)  warehouse,  and  no  end 
of  pockets  stuck  all  over  it,  and  this  dress,  soft  dove- 
colored  stripes,  trimmed  with  brilliant  blue  cord  and 
tails  and  all,  and,  do  you  believe,  I  put  on  my  trappings 
and  pranced  down  into  the  parlor  to  show  off,  and 
now,  says  Mrs.  F.,  you  can  travel  from  one  end  of 
the  United  States  to  the  other !  Oh  !  and  a  pair  of 
boots,  and  I  am  going  to  send  to  New  York  for 
Stewart's  gloves,  and  then  ! 

Now,  miserable  man,  you  know  how  you  gloat  over 
such  vanities  as  these  and  then  talk  "Baptist"  and 
leathern  girdle  and  wild  honey  in  the  next  line.  I 
have  some  wild  honey,  by  the  way.  I  sent  up  to  New 


500     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

Hampshire  for  some  maple  syrup,  the  very  golden 
juice  of  the  sun,  and,  if  possible,  I  will  save  "  a 
drap "  against  you  come  next  summer.  I  am  not 
sure  it  will  keep.  If  you  should  see  the  way  I  eat  it 
you  would  not  be  very  sure  either. 

I  work  out-doors  a  great  deal,  and  a  great  deal 
more  in  the  house,  and  am  busy  from  morning  till 
night,  and  often  think  what  a  mercy  it  is  you  don't 
live  in  Hamilton,  because  you  are  such  an  idle  person, 
you  know,  and  would  be  lounging  about  so  much,  but 
I  should  turn  you  into  the  garden  and  set  you  at  work 
weeding ! 

Thank  you  for  your  good  words  anent  the  new 
book.  I  have  not  had  a  very  overweening  opinion  of 
its  merits,  and  should  not  have  sent  you  a  copy  only  I 
knew  you  would  be  sending  for  one  if  I  didn't. 
However,  I  hope  it  may  strike  others  more  favorably 
than  it  does  me.  Don't  you  mean  "New  Atmos 
phere  "  all  the  time  you  are  talking  about  "  Stumbling 
Blocks  "  ?  I  don't  think  the  latter  has  been  partic 
ularly  abused  by  the  "religious  press,"  and  I  know 
that  the  former  has,  to  its  and  my  great  advantage. 

Political!}',  I  agree  enthusiastically  with  every  word 
of  your  letter,  and  wish  your  views  might  be  carried  out 
to  the  letter  and  in  the  spirit.  The  "  N.  Y.  World" 
comes,  and  I  read  it.  It  may  be  able,  but  I  have 
thought  it  was  a  Satanic  ability.  "  Harper's  Weekly," 
"Punch,"  the  "Army  and  Navy  Journal,"  are  also 
here  and  welcome.  I  expect  the  ' '  Unitarian  Monthly  " 
is  going  to  follow  Edward  through  the  heavens,  and 
make  all  the  "  illustrious  and  sainted  men,"  as  one  of 
his  eulogists  has  it,  take  off  their  hats  to  him.  I 
wonder  whether  he  will  be  on  good  terms  with  Mr. 
John  Brown  up  there.  I  believe,  on  my  soul,  you 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  501 

will  look  askance  on  him  for  the  first  century  or  two, 
at  least. 

Mr.  Tocld,  formerly  of  Newburyport,  now  a  gentle 
man  at  large,  spent  the  evening  here  the  other  day, 
and  has  sent  me  a  very  curious  breast-pin  made  of  an 
oil-nut  in  its  natural  state,  if  you  will  believe  me.  I 
like  to  work  out-doors.  Mrs.  F.  sent  me  down  a 
"Anonymous,"  which  came  to  her  from  "My  Farm 
at  Edgewood,"  but  her  garden  is  not  ready  to  receive 
it,  and  mine  is.  I  went  to  the  little  church  in  C., 
horrid  !  Yes  it  was,  and  you  would  have  said  so  — 
such  a  stamping  and  ranting.  In  Boston  we  went  to 
hear  a  Mr.  Carroll  read  Browning,  which  he  did  very 
finely.  I  never  heard  any  one  read  Browning  so  well. 
Miss  Palfrey  was  at  tea  with  us,  a  most  brilliant, 
entertaining,  and  agreeable  woman.  We  have  four 
teen  little  chickens,  the  loveliest,  healthiest,  hungriest 
little  rogues  you  ever  saw. 

M.  A.  D. 

MAY  9,  1865. 

MY  DEAR  :  Tuesday  I  had  a  letter  from  Mrs. 
Spalding,  in  which  she  informed  me  that  she  had 
sprained  her  wrist  badly,  and  that  my  "  Christ  as  a 
Preacher "  was  mischievous  and  heretical.  I  went 
over  to  Mr.  D's  to  show  my  hat  —  he  informed  me 
that  it  made  me  look  like  a  saucy  girl  of  sixteen. 
They  have  had  a  great  meeting  at  Savannah,  about 
the  assassination.  Friday  your  letter  came  and  one 
from  E.  H.  She  says  that  was  a  terrible  night 
in  Washington  —  horror  and  amazement  all  night 
long.  She  saw  the  inaugural  performance  of  A.  John 
son.  She  says  "  he  did  not  seem  so  much  like  a 
drunken  man  as  one  under  some  demoniacal  influence. 


502     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

His  belter  self  seemed  all  the  while  struggling  against 
some  malign  spirit."  She  says  she  "•  never  saw  a 
human  being's  face  so  redeemed  and  glorified  by  ex 
altation  of  sentiment  as  Mr.  Lincoln's  was  that  day. 
It  was  fairly  radiant.  It  was  as  if  this  world  were 
slipping  away  from  his  grasp  and  a  better  opened  to 
him."  "  Robert  has  deported  himself  in  the  manliest 
manner."  She  says  of  "New  Atmosphere":  "All 
women  and  all  independent  thinkers  like  it,"  and 
sends  her  love  to  you.  Friday  afternoon  was  pre 
paratory.  I  killed  caterpillars  all  noon  time,  chased 
Mrs.  Porter's  hens  home,  and  then  went  to  lecture, 
meditating  by  what  scriptural  authority  the  church 
appointed  a  preparatory  lecture,  anyway.  I  don't 
remember  that  anything  of  the  sort  was  done  in  the 
Bible,  but  I  was  a  little  taken  aback  when  I  got  there 
to  hear  Mr.  Sewell  congratulate  himself  that  he  was 
going  to  have  two  this  week  —  ours  as  well  as  his 
own.  But  he  didn't  deceive  me.  He  didn't  come  for 
the  delight  of  it,  according  to  the  best  of  my  knowl 
edge  and  belief,  but  because  Mr.  French  was  moving 
and  wanted  him  to  preach  for  him,  and  he  would 
preach  one  of  his  old  sermons  for  Mr.  Sewell  next 
day.  However,  if  I  could  do  all  the  talking  at  lect 
ures  I  dare  say  I  should  like  two  a  week  as  well  as 
they.  Saturday  I  had  a  nice  letter  from  Mr.  Wood, 
one  of  his  best.  He  says,  too,  that  it  is  thought  Mr. 
Johnson  was  drugged,  that  a  very  pious  lady  from 
Nashville  who  had  known  him,  I  think,  from  a  child, 
said  that  he  never  was  drunk,  or  to  that  effect,  and 
that  ex-Vice-Presidcut  Hamlin,  who  has  known  him 
for  twenty  years,  says  he  has  always  been  a  sober 
man. 

President    French   sent   me    a  new    instalment   of 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  5Q3 

"religious  press"  criticism,  headed  "Moral  Pesti 
lence  and  Death,"  "Bad  as  Bad  Can  Be,"  etc. 
N.  Y.  O.  (not  O.  Y.  F.)  seems  awaking  to  the  true 
state  of  the  case  and  says  but  for  the  religious  news 
papers,  etc.,  the  book  "would  have  perished  at  its 
birth  in  its  native  corruption." 


[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

MAY  9. 

By  the  way,  what  you  say  about  the  law  adds  to 
the  irrepressible  conflict  in  my  mind.  Are  law  and 
politics  necessarily  so  bad?  May  they  not  be  puri 
fied?  I  don't  like  to  think  that  any  profession  or 
occupation  demands  a  low  living,  because  there  your 
immovable  force  comes  in  contact  with  your  irresistible 
body.  Oh,  how  that  sentence  has  wabbled  around 
wrong  !  If  my  arm  were  not  so  tired,  aching,  I  would 
be  eloquent  here,  there  is  material  enough,  but  you 
see  what  I  am  at,  don't  you? 

You  can't  see  me  "because  I  wear  a  veil."  I  do 
everywhere  for  that  matter,  but  a  lace  veil  out-doors. 
I  am  such  "  a  little,  timid,  tender  person,"  you  know, 
such  a  dear  little,  delicate  lily  of  the  valley,  knowing 
no  sterner  duty  than  to  give  caresses  and  fits  to  a  few 
caterpillars  now  and  then,  a  fragile,  drooping,  sensi 
tive  plant,  whose  clear  and  eloquent  blood  speaks  in 
her  cheeks,  and  so  distinctly  wreaks  that  you  might 
almost  say  her  body  thicks.  Let  us  have  rhyme 
whether  we  can  catch  reason  or  not. 

No,  I  have  not  read  the  "  Aimless  and  Anxious  Fe 
males,"  but  it  sounds  attractive,  and  I  wish  you  would 
send  it  to  me  as  you  did  Wendell  Phillips'  speech, 
but  you  won't  have  the  same  inducement  that  you  did 


504     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

then,  —  a  column  of  personal  abuse  of  me,  that  was 
what  made  you  so  forward  to  send  that  paper,  and  Dr. 
Vermilye,  —  no,  it  wasn't  either,  it  was  your  own  kind 
heart,  and  I  am  a  heartless,  ungrateful  miscreant, 
and  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart.  I  did  not  write 
your  name  in  "  S.  &  S."  l  of  malice  aforethought.  It 
is  not  worth  while,  but  I  will  write  it  in  as  many 
"  New  Atmospheres"  as  you  please.  That  is  a  book 
to  live  or  die  by,  for  the  truth  that  is  in  it  is  not  of 
an  age,  but  for  all  time.  It  may  be  roughly  hewn, 
but  you  must  always  have  your  pioneer  with  his  pick 
axe  before  your  Grecian  temple  can  go  up.  There 
is  a  most  lovely  bird  prinking  himself  in  the  apple 
tree. 

HAMILTON,  May  24,  1865. 

MY  DEAR  SHEIKH  :  What  is  the  good,  I  should  like 
to  know,  of  being  a  Quaker  if  you  are  going  to  lose 
your  sweet  temper  on  every  little  provocation,  just 
like  a  world's  people?  I  thought  Friends  were 
equanimous,  and  never  swore  at  you  nor  anything. 
But  you  call  me  "  a woman,"  and  in  the  news 
papers  that  dash  always  means  a  wicked  word.  Now 
then! 

Besides,  my  dear,  you  told  a  fib.  Don't  you  know 
you  did?  Did  you  not  begin  with  saying  that  you 
did  not  know  that  it  would  be  any  satisfaction  to  me, 
etc.,  etc.,  when  you  knew  it  would  be  the  greatest 
satisfaction  ?  Oh !  yes,  you  did  know  it  perfectly 
well.  You  know  that  if  no  one  else  in  the  world 
cared  for  it  —  if,  indeed,  every  one  abused  it,  and  it 
amused  you  for  a  day  or  in  a  storm  —  I  should  be 
glad  I  wrote  it  all  the  same.  That  is  the  second 

1  "  Skirmishes  and  Sketches." 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  505 

count  in  my  indictment.  .  .  .  As  to  violating  con 
fidence,  my  friend,  that  is  impossible,  for  tbee  never 
gave  me  any  to  violate.  Thee  knows  I  never  could 
get  anything  out  of  thee  but  by  main  force ;  and 
when  I  thought  I  had  thee  fairly  started,  and  could 
begin  to  sit  back  in  my  chair  and  take  mine  ease  in 
mine  inn,  thee  would  be  sure  to  break  off  short,  and 
run  into  the  closet  for  a  handful  of  wood,  or  do  some 
other  unnecessary  and  utterly  irrelevant  thing.  I 
mean  to  have  that  wood-room  walled  up  next  time  I 
come,  or  else  I  will  take  my  chair  and  sit  down  in 
front  of  it,  as  they  did  at  thy  favorite  P^piscopal 
Church  in  Salem  last  Sunday  to  prevent  the  rector 
from  preaching.  Think  of  that,  Master  Brooke ! 
The  church  spending  the  holy  Sabbath  day  in  a 
brawl!  The  direct  descendant  of  St.  Peter  fisti 
cuffing  his  wardens  away  from  the  vestry,  and 
marching  through  the  streets  with  his  robes  on  his 
arm,  and  a  procession  of  the  faithful  trotting  after 
him  to  his  own  house  to  hear  the  gospel  of  love  dis 
pensed  (with).  Well,  who  knows  whether  some 
thing  equally  regrettable  will  not  happen  to  you  if 
you  don't  confide  more  in  me  ?  If  you  would  trust 
to  my  honor,  and  say,  "  Abig'il  Jane,  I  purpose  to 
give  thee  the  history  of  my  life  and  sufferings  from 
the  beginning  down  to  a  period  which  is  within  the 
memory  of  men  still  living,"  why  I  should  be  all 
ears.  There  would  be  no  tongue  left  in  me.  As  it 
is,  I  have  to  pursue  knowledge  with  such  infinite  cost 
of  time  and  pains  that  I  am  sure  what  I  get  is  fairly 
earned  —  mine  in  fee  simple,  to  have  and  to  hold,  for 
better,  for  worse. 

Beside,  it  is   all   nonsense  what  thee    says    about 
"  not  necessary,"  and  all  that.     On  the  contrary,  it 


506     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

is  the  central  tank  and  fountain  around  which  the 
whole  temple  —  and  if  I  can't  have  the  tank,  you 
can't  have  the  temple  —  so  give  me  back  my  story 
and  take  your  northeast  rain-storm.  And  I  don't 
believe  thee  cares  one  bit,  anyway.  I  know /don't. 
It's  no  use  thee  thinking  thee  is  going  to  have  thy 
way  all  the  time.  They  natter  thee  up  —  the  people 
do  all  about  —  till  thee  think  thee  can  lord  it  over  a 
snipe  like  me  most  unconscionably.  Well,  I'm  not  of 
much  account,  I  know  ;  but  I  will  speak  out  occasion 
ally,  and  thee  may  scold  to  thy  heart's  content.  I 
like  thee  scolding  and  I  like  thee  smiling,  and  I  hurl 
defiance  at  thee.  Thee  says  thee  cannot  look  into 
Annie  Fields'  face  and  blame  her  for  anything,  but 
thee  makes  up  for  it  the  moment  thee  looks  in  my 
face !  I  shall  not  go  to  Newport,  but  you  better  go. 
They  will  all  be  so  delighted,  and  they  will  take  care 
of  you  if  you  are  sick,  and  cosset  you  up  beautifully. 
I'd  go! 

JUNK  7. 

A  good  somebody  over  in  Newburyport,  whom  I 
never  saw,  has  sent  me  dozens  of  plants,  and  Mr. 
D.,  the  good  man,  cairie  over  in  the  rain  and  set 
them  out  under  an  umbrella.  Now  if  you  make  a 
mistake  there,  it  must  be  from  inborn  intellectual 
fatuity  and  not  from  any  want  of  clearness  in  the  nar 
rative.  But  I  told  the  tale  for  the  moral's  sake,  which 
is  to  you- ward.  See  how  Mr.  D.,  who  makes  no 
professions,  comes  and  works  in  my  gravel  bed  while 
some  one  whom  I  could  mention,  who  swears  eternal 
fidelity,  stands  afar  off  and  only  lifts  up  his  voice  in 
laughter  at  my  poor  little  thirsty  orphans.  There  are 
people  I  know  skilful  in  corn  and  kine,  but  where  in 


BUSY   YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  50 7 

their  hearts  are  the  beautiful  virtues  of  modesty  and 
charity?  And  not  even  echo  finds  her  tongue  in 
response.  I  have  had  many  roses  this  year,  and  each 
rose  has  had  many  bugs,  and  they  have  all  thriven. 
Think  how  many  homes  I  have  made  happy. 

Of  course  a  politician,  or  a  lawyer,  or  a  merchant 
may  be  a  good,  true,  honest  man  as  I  very  well  know, 
but  they  are  very  often  not,  though  we  have  sore  need 
of  such  good  men.  Now  I  know  nothing  about  it  of 
mine  own  self,  but  you  don't  think  the  best  in  the 
world  of  law,  and  there  is  great  talk  of  knavery  among 
the  others,  but  Dan  will  have  only  beautiful  things  to 
do  all  his  life.  He  will  only  have  to  work  his  material 
into  the  best  possible  shapes.  I  think  his  bracket  is 
lovely,  and  I  have  put  them  both  up  in  my  room  under 
an  engraving  of  one  of  Landseer's  pictures,  tell  him. 
We  have  not  had  canker-worms  this  year,  and  only 
one  last  year,  but  we  have  had  caterpillars,  which  to 
me  are  more  dreadful,  if  there  is  any  degree  in  the 
horror  with  which  I  regard  them.  I  think  these  feel 
ings  are  by  instinct.  Certainly  I  never  had  any  fright 
or  any  teaching,  yet  all  these  creeping  things  are  inex 
pressibly  loathsome  to  me.  I  don't  object  to  flies,  or 
the  winged  animals  generally,  though  I  don't  like 
rose-bugs. 

In  looking  over  your  letter  I  find  you  signalize  the 
first  of  June  by  dining  on  crackers  and  milk.  A 
remarkable  coincidence,  for  when  I  was  in  Boston  / 
dined  on  crackers  and  milk  at  Mrs.  Haven's  saloon, 
and  nice  milk  it  was,  too,  and  a  great  deal  of  it,  more 
than  I  could  eat,  to  my  sorrow,  and  I  had  them  put  a 
great  lump  of  ice  in  it,  and  it  was  delicious.  You 
know  I  was  excited  and  all  a-fever  as  usual,  and  the 
mere  thought  of  eating  well-nigh  choked  me,  but  the 


508     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

ice-cold  milk  was  a  refrigerator.  We  have  it  a  great 
deal  at  home  in  the  summer.  My  mother  and  I  drink 
neither  tea  nor  coffee. 

JUNE  24,  1865. 

I  told  you  I  would  write  you  a  lovely  letter,  and  so 
I  will,  but  I  don't  know  what  it  will  be  about.  I  went 
up  to  Boston  to  see  you  and  comfort  you  for  your  lost 
gold  watch,  but  I  could  find  nothing  of  you,  and  so  I 
meandered  into  the  Mt.  Vernon  Church  and  took 
council  with  the  Reverend  Fathers  assembled  there. 
I  had  a  fine  time  of  it.  The  clergy  and  all  the  elect 
were  downstairs,  and  all  we  old  wives  and  profanum 
vulgus  were  in  the  galleries,  and  no  passing  to  and 
from  to  speak  of,  and  nobody  saw  me,  and  I  saw 
everybody  and  sat  still  and  at  rest.  Now  why  did 
not  you  just  drop  in  and  indulge  in  notes  and  com 
ments  ?  I  think  it  would  have  been  charming,  I 
assure  you,  that  our  Orthodox  brethren  were  a  highly 
respectable  body,  and  I  was  very  strongly  confirmed 
in  my  Calvinism.  If  I  had  not  been  Orthodox  before 
I  should  have  become  so  on  the  spot.  Men,  not 
principles ! 

Later. 

I  never  drank  a  cup  of  tea  nor  of  coffee  since  I  was 
nine  years  old.  Then  I  went  away  on  a  visit  for  the 
first  time,  and  the  coffee  did  not  suit  me,  and  I  thought 
it  was  less  trouble  to  do  without  it  altogether  than  to 
get  it  right,  and  never  have  touched  it  since. 

Life  always  sat  very  loosely  on  me.  I  have  no 
particular  plans  for  this  world,  and  never  did  have 
any.  I  just  live  along  from  day  to  day,  taking  things 
as  they  come.  Better  has  happened  to  me  than  I 
ever  dreamed  of  happening  to  me,  but  far  below  what 


BUSY  YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  5Q9 

might  happen  if  the  order  of  the  universe  were 
changed.  I  have  no  hope  of  any  personal  revenue 
from  the  future  beyond  what  the  past  has  brought 
me,  and  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  was  sanguine. 
The  only  personal  ambition  I  recollect  was  when  I 
should  have  left  school  to  have  a  steel-colored  silk 
dress  with  a  large  cape,  and  not  to  marry  any  one  till 
I  had  taught  school  a  year.  I  never  had  the  steel- 
colored  silk,  and  I  did  teach  my  year,  but  I  found 
no  great  sorrow  in  the  one,  and  no  great  solace  in 
the  other  —  but  other  things  have  come  and  a  change 
of  base  followed,  and  somehow  it  does  not  seem  as  if 
there  was  any  me  at  all.  I  am,  like  the  late  Confed 
eracy,  a  mere  shell.  Somewhere,  I  supect,  hidden  in 
some  remote  corner,  the  germ  of  a  person  with  large 
personal  life  lies  unseen,  and  will  one  day,  under 
other  skies,  spring  into  light  and  then  it  will  be  me, 
but  for  the  present,  I  am  one,  and  another,  and  all 
souls,  but  in  the  great  stress  of  the  world  there  is  no 
room  for  me.  In  a  crowd  whoever  can  hold  himself 
in  abeyance  ought  to  do  so,  for  the  great  throng 
have  no  consciousness  and  no  choice  but  to  be  obvi 
ous.  But  when  I  do  live,  how  I  shall  live  ! 

Thank  you  for  your  honeysuckle.  I  have  a  little 
one  that  fills  the  air  with  fragrance.  Now  good-by. 
Be  good  and  you  will  be  happy,  at  least  you  will  be 
much  better  off  than  if  you  are  not  good,  and  if  you 
are  not  just  so  happy  all  the  time  you  must  not  mind 
it.  They  are  all  doing  very  well  at  home,  I  doubt 
not,  only  they  all  want  you,  and  Pamela,  strange  to 
say,  thinks  you  are  the  nicest  old  dear  that  ever  was, 
and  is  afraid  you  will  get  all  tired  and  dusty  and  un 
comfortable,  and  the  children  are  wondering  if  it  will 
be  a  week,  or  a  month,  before  you  will  come,  and  I 


510     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

think  it  is  not  much  when  you  come,  seeing,  wherever 
you  are,  there  is  a  good  brave  man  who  sparkles  so 
on  the  surface  that  one  might  think  him  but  a  glassy 
inland  pool  if  he  had  not  eyes  to  see,  under  the 
sparkle,  honest,  still  sea-depths  —  none  the  less  pro 
found  for  the  sunshine  that  plays  over  them.  And 
when  an  angel  goes  down  and  troubles  the  waters,  I 
hope  my  friend  will  remember  that  it  is  an  angel,  a 
messenger  from  heaven  —  and  not  to  be  too  sorely 
dismayed. 

I  "guess"  he  thinks  I  am  his  grandmother  by  the 
way  I  talk  to  him,  but  the  moment  I  really  care  for 
any  one,  I  always  begin  to  feel  sort  of  grandmotherly 
towards  him,  her,  or  it. 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

JUNE  26,  1865. 

You  will  be  delighted  to  know  that  I  have  been 
strengthening  my  bulwarks  by  watching  the  proceed 
ings  of  the  council  now  assembled  in  Ashburton 
Place,  though  I  watched  from  the  galleries  and  took 
only  a  limited  and  entirely  private  part  in  the  discus 
sions.  But  it  is  worth  while  even  to  look  on  the 
Columbiads  of  Congregationalism  —  Bacon,  Button, 
the  Beechers,  the  Sturtevants,  Todd,  Thompson, 
Park,  etc.  Governor  Buckingham  is  a  fine-looking 
gentleman,  really  fine  and  gentle  as  I  looked  down  upon 
him,  —  and  the  assistant  moderator,  Colonel  Ham 
mond,  a  layman  of  Chicago,  is  one  of  the  most  execu 
tive  Executives  I  ever  saw.  I  like  to  see  him  act,  he 
seems  to  have  the  Council  so  well  in  hand,  and  knows 
just  what  to  do,  and  does  it.  Nothing  inspires  confi 
dence  like  confidence,  with  facts  to  stand  on.  But 
why  am  I  telling  all  this  to  a  poor  forlorn  Baptist, 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  51 1 

who  has  neither  part  nor  lot  in  Congregationalism  ? 
Why,  simply  to  give  an  account  of  myself,  not  in  the 
least  to  "aggravate"  him.  But  some  of  the  scenes 
where  I  have  "  assisted"  have  been  of  no  denomina 
tional  interest,  but  lay  hold  on  large  issues  of  state  as 
well  as  church.  The  response  to  the  foreign  delega 
tion,  Quint's,  Thompson's,  Vaughan's,  Raleigh's, 
and  Beecher's  speeches,  was  extremely  interesting, 
more  so  than  any  report  will  tell  you.  I  was  just 
glad  to  see  England  arraigned  and  explaining,  though 
I  was  glad,  too,  that  matters  took  a  turn  not  only 
pacific,  but  fraternal.  Yet  how  great  an  eye-opener 
is  success !  But  I  think  we  shall  not  build  you  a 
church  in  Washington.  It  seems  far  better  to  build 
in  our  waste  places,  than  where  there  are  already 
plenty  cumberers  of  the  ground. 

In  liking  the  "  Henriade  "  you  only  side  with  the 
majority,  who  must  be  simply  pleased  with  the  home 
liness  and  rusticity  of  the  subject,  as  the  paper  has  no 
other  especial  merit.  But  I  suppose  many  people  are 
reminded  by  it  of  their  early  experiences  ;md  so  the 
one  touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  Itind 
towards  it.  "  Skirmishes  and  Sketches,"  I  am  told, 
goes  very  well.  The  "  Folly  in  Israel"  has  been  op 
posed,  but  courteously,  in  the  "Sunday-school  Times." 
With  this  letter  goes  also  the  last  proof  of  a  sixth 
book  by  a  well-known  popular  author.  It  is,  however, 
only  a  children's  book,  and  will  make  no  especial  stir 
in  the  world,  let  us  pray  heaven. 

Your  protest  against  turning  Unitarian  shall  go 
upon  record,  notwithstanding  we  the  Council  have 
declared  that  we  are  no  more  Trinitarian  than  we  are 
Unitarian.  There's  for  you.  But  the  trouble  with 
you  is  not  that  you  call  a  spade  a  spade,  but  that  you 


512     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

call  a  silver  sugar-spoon  a  spade,  and  see  it  as  a 
spade,  and  use  it  spade-wise.  However,  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  distress  yourself  about  this,  especially 
as  I  know  you  won't. 

And  I  am  charmed  by  your  proposition  that  I  lay 
to  your  credit  your  printed  letters.  Pray  do  the 
same  by  me,  and  our  correspondence  will  conduct 
itself  voluminously,  summarily,  and  in  a  way  much  to 
be  regretted  by  the  post-office  department. 

I  shall  not  go  to  Quarterly  meeting.  And  Whittier 
is  not  going,  either.  He  says  as  he  could  get  no  one 
to  go  with  him  he  concluded  not  to  go  at  all,  and 
betook  himself  to  the  mountains,  which  is  much  better 
for  him,  I  think. 

I  wish  you  would  look  about  and  see  if  you  can 
find  something  pretty  for  a  money-holder.  The  other 
day  I  lost  my  purse  in  Boston — left  it  on  the  counter 
at  Chandler's,  with  twenty-five  or  thirty  dollars  in  it. 
They  were  honest,  and  restored  it ;  but,  on  examining 
it,  I  found  I  should  be  quite  ashamed  of  advertising 
it.  It  is  all  burst  out,  and  battered,  and  shabby, 
and  I  want  something  new,  and  fresh,  and  pretty,  so 
that  if  I  lose  it  it  will  be  worth  finding,  and  I  shall 
not  blush  in  knowing  that  men  call  it  "  mine." 

I  found  a  whole  pile  of  letters  waiting  for  me  when 
I  got  home.  The  Ashbys  have  sent  for  me  to  go  to 

The  Laurels  to-morrow,  and  the s  to  meet  them 

at  Gorham,  N.H.,  which  is  simply  impossible,  but  I 
design  to  go  to  The  Laurels,  as  I  have  declined  for 
several  years,  but  I  hate  to  go,  there  will  be  so  many 
people  there,  and  I  shall  be  dreadfully  looked  at,  but 
I  shall  wear  my  veil,  and  keep  it  down,  and  make 
the  best  of  it. 


BUSY  YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  513 

JUNE  30,  1865. 

A  lady  came  to  me  in  the  cars  and  asked  if  this 
was  Miss  Hamilton?  I  said  no.  Had  I  been  thought 
to  resemble  her?  Not  that  I  ever  heard  of  !  Oh  !  why 
she  asked  was  because  she  was  going  to  The  Laurels, 
and  she  thought  I  might  be  going,  too,  and  she  feared 
she  might  have  taken  the  wrong  day.  I  said  /  was 
going  to  The  Laurels,  too,  and  it  was  all  right.  You 
should  have  seen  the  breathless  attention  and  aston 
ishment  of  Messrs.  Benson  and  Cutler  during  the 
colloquy,  which  I  maintained  with  the  utmost  frank 
ness  and  gravity.  "Why,"  said  Mr.  Benson  when 
she  had  gone,  "doesn't  she  mean  Gail  Hamilton?" 
"I  don't  know  what  she  meant,"  I  replied  emphati 
cally,  "I  only  answered  what  she  said."  They 
agreed  I  should  make  a  good  lawyer.  At  Mr.  Spald- 
ing's  I  found  Lucy  Larcom  and  a  Professor  Webster. 
After  talking  awhile  he  asked  me  if  I  lived  in  New- 
buryport.  I  said  no,  I  lived  in  Hamilton.  What ! 
you  are  not  Gail  Hamilton?  Oh!  no,  not  at  all. 
Well,  I  was  entirely  different  from  the  idea  he  had 
formed  —  but  being  from  the  town  of  Hamilton  he 
did  not  know  but  that,  etc.,  etc.  Lucy  Larcom 
opened  wide  eyes  at  me,  but  I  went  on  talking,  and 
it  all  passed  off.  It  was  a  fine  day  and  we  went  to 
The  Laurels  in  a  steamer  and  two  gondolas  lashed  to 
its  sides.  Maria  Mitchell,  the  astronomer,  was  there, 
about  fifty  or  so,  iron  gray  hair  in  curls,  dark  and 
rather  masculine  complexion,  fine  eyes,  peculiar  mouth, 
rather  full  lips,  talks  rapidly  and  a  little  recklessly 
like  me  —  saucy  and  witty,  and  funny  and  entirely 
original  —  and  very  natural  —  and  gives  you  an  idea 
of  strength  —  not  in  the  least  seminary-ish,  or  teacher- 
ish,  or  fine  lady-ish,  or  pedantic.  Mrs.  Oliver  was 


514     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

there  also,  my  Lynn  friend,  with  Mrs.  John  B.  Alley, 
Mrs.  Bubier,  sister  of  Mrs.  Sewell  Amiable,  Julia 
Hayes.  Lucy  Everett,  Abner  Goodell,  and  three  hun 
dred  more,  and  Whittier.  He  was  in  tolerable  health 
and  good  spirits  —  saw  the  Fields  at  Campton,  had  a 
poem  read,  which  I  told  him  I  could  have  written  if  I 
had  only  thought  of  it,  and  he  wished  I  had  read  it. 
The  number  of  my  admirers  was  quite  wonderful  to 
see,  but,  as  I  remarked  to  Whittier,  it  is  sometimes 
convenient  to  be  lionized,  because  you  get  so  well 
waited  on.  Miss  Mitchell  brought  her  niece  to  me, 
remarking  that  she  was  of  the  gushing  age,  and  just 
silly  enough  to  be  enthusiastically  carried  away  by 
me.  Going  home  Professor  Webster  edged  himself 
in  by  me  and  brought  forward  Professor  Park's  ' '  re 
spectable  man,"  declaring  that  he  supposed  I  denied 
my  identity  in  the  same  way.  I  assured  him  that  I 
never  denied  my  identity —  that  my  name  was  on  the 
town  records  and  I  always  answered  to  it.  Never 
theless  he  expressed  his  own  and  his  wife's  regard  for 
me,  arid  I  sent  her  a  spray  of  laurel.  Mr.  Todd  was 
there  and  had  sent  me  by  letter  the  night  before  a 
five-hundred  dollar  Treasury  note  and  a  ten-dollar 
bill  —  but  unfortunately  not  payable  till  two  years 
after  a  treaty  of  peace  between  the  United  and  the 
Confederate  States. 

JULY  3,  1865. 

BELOVED  BRETHREN  :  We  will  take  for  the  sub 
ject  of  our  discom'se,  "  Trouble."  The  sermon  natu 
rally  divides  itself  into  two  heads  : 

1.  Roomatic. 

2.  Cut-worm, 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  515 

which,  unfortunately,  has  many  heads.  Now,  Alice, 
rheumatism  is  a  bad  thing,  and  I  can  sympathize 
with  Jamie,  if  not  with  you,  out  of  the  depths  of  my 
own  personal  experience,  for  I  well  remember  how  I 
used  to  stand  by  "  maw-maw,  hand  in  boony  "  (hers), 
"  finger  in  mousey  "  (mine) ,  when  she  was  having  her 
"  spells,"  but  I  think  I  never  arrived  at  your  vaga 
bond's  hard-heartedness,  and  extracted  amusement 
for  myself  out  of  her  groans.  But  although  mother 
has  had  rheumatism,  it  has,  as  you  know,  not  fol 
lowed  her  up  constantly  by  any  means,  and  therefore 
I  hope  yours  will  be  equally  lenient,  and  even  more 
so. 

Next  the  cut- worm  and  the  chine  (h)  bug  and  the 
grasshopper.  Well,  I  don't  know  what  they  mean, 
but  I  have  a  theory  of  things  in  general  which  in 
cludes  them,  and  you  shall  have  the  benefit  of  it 
forthwith.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  whole 
human  race  is  to  be  looked  at  as  one  individual.  It 
is  created  for  some  unspoken  purpose,  but  just  now, 
and  for  a  good  while,  it  is  to  be  educated.  We  shall 
not  find  the  end,  the  object  of  its  life,  in  this  world, 
for  here  it  is  only  put  to  school.  Plagues,  diseases, 
earthquakes,  wholesale  railroad  accidents,  wars,  and 
chinch-bugs  are  its  defects,  which  it  must  grow  strong 
to  overcome.  By  its  wisdom  it  has  extracted  the 
terror  from  thunder-storms,  or  is  on  the  way  to  do 
so.  Whole  districts  suffer  from  drought,  and  will 
continue  to  do  so  until  the  race  has  learned  the  true 
method  of  irrigation.  Locust  and  grasshopper  and 
canker-worm  will  devour,  until  man,  instigated  by  their 
ravages,  will  have  devised  some  way  to  conquer  them 
and  reduce  them  to  their  true  sphere.  It  is  at  once 
man's  promise,  and  his  doom,  to  have  dominion  over 


516     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

the  earth,  and  till  he  establishes  such  dominion,  until 
he  has  learned  and  located  all  the  forces  of  nature, 
set  them  all  in  their  just  position,  and  given  them  all 
their  proportionate  work,  —  saying  to  this  one  "come 
up  hither,"  and  to  that  one  "  thus  far  shalt  thou  go 
and  no  farther,"  —  until  he  has  thus  dominion  over 
them,  they  will  continue  to  vex  and  thwart  and  tor 
ment  him.  Otherwise,  he  would  not  take  pains  to 
fulfil  his  destiny.  If  these  rebellious  subjects  did 
not  trouble  him  he  would  sit  down  quietly  under  his 
own  vine  and  fig-tree,  and  never  attempt  to  subdue 
the  world.  As  it  is,  the  canker-worm  here,  and  the 
potato-rot  there,  and  the  cattle-disease  in  a  third  place, 
and  the  tornado  in  a  fourth  are  constantly  reminding 
man  that  his  kingdom  is  not  subdued,  and  constantly 
inciting  him  to  new  efforts. 

But  this  great  individual,  the  human  race,  is  made 
up  of  separate  individuals,  just  as  if  every  drop  of 
blood  and  every  cell  of  the  tissue  in  a  man's  body 
were  a  sentient  being.  So  while  the  race  is  going 
through  the  process  of  education  that  process  bears 
hard  on  the  individual.  And  if  this  world  were  all, 
if  there  were  no  revelation,  I  should  say  it  was  a  very 
unjust  and  cruel  arrangement.  It  will  be  a  thousand 
years  before  the  great  laws  of  health  are  known  and 
obeyed;  meanwhile  you  are  suffering  from  rheuma 
tism.  What  comfort  for  your  lost  corn  do  you  find 
in  believing  that  at  some  far  distant  future  all  your 
loss  will  have  tended  to  make  men  discover  just  how 
to  keep  chinch-bugs  down  to  numbers  which  will  be 
harmless?  It  was  necessary  to  teach  the  world  the 
barbarism  of  slavery,  but  the  starved  soldiers  in 
Libby  and  Andersonville  and  Saulsbury  were  none 
the  less  wretched  for  that.  Well,  I  take  it  the  thing 


BUSY  YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  517 

is  just  this,  —  while  the  great  individual  Race  is  grow 
ing,  the  small,  individual  Man  is  growing  still  more. 
The  Race  lives  only  for  this  world,  the  men  that  com 
pose  it  have  an  after  life.  It  is  a  world  within  a 
world.  The  good  which  we  see  is  the  means.  The 
end  is  something  which  we  do  not  see.  All  these 
things  must  happen  for  the  profit  of  the  race,  even 
though  the  individual  man  is  crushed  beneath  them, 
but  he  can  afford  to  be  crushed,  because  another  life 
awaits  him.  The  race  cannot  afford  to  be  crushed, 
because  this  world  is  its  only  theatre.  Now  these 
very  things  that  crush  him,  man,  may  turn  to  his 
highest  good  —  even  in  this  world,  and  especially  in 
the  next.  What  belongs  to  this  world  is  of  secondary 
importance,  even  of  but  third  and  fourth  importance. 
It  is  a  thing  of  temporary  account  whether  you  have 
three  or  ten  acres  of  corn  ;  a  hundred  years  hence  it 
will  be  all  the  same.  But  a  hundred  and  a  thousand 
years  hence  it  will  be  of  great  consequence  whether 
the  ravages  of  the  chinch-bug  made  your  patience 
stronger,  and  led  you  more  closely  to  the  Divine 
Bestower  of  all  things.  To  be  poor  or  to  be  rich  is 
of  itself  of  no  moment,  but  to  make  poverty  and 
wealth  conducive  to  upright  character,  to  gentle  liv 
ing,  and  truthful  speech  and  charitable  thought  —  that 
is  the  true  work  of  life.  Money  brings  just  as  truly 
trial  as  lack  of  money.  When  the  world  shall  have 
thoroughly  learned  righteousness,  we  shall  have  no 
squalid  poverty,  but  meanwhile  this  squalid  poverty 
may  work  out  enduring  riches.  The  almost  universal 
prevalence  of  sorrow  is  to  my  mind  a  strong  proof  of 
immortality.  There  must  be  some  future  state  in 
which  all  this  sorrow  shall  be  shown  to  have  had  a 
great  work  to  do.  It  is  well  nigh  impossible  to  find 


518     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

any  grown  person  who  has  not  known  anxiety  and 
perplexity,  and  has  not  needed  to  exercise  much  faith 
and  patience,  and  this  faith  and  patience  is  of  more 
real  and  lasting  worth  than  the  greatest  worldly  pros 
perity.  So,  then,  we  have  two  things  to  console  us 
in  trouble.  First,  as  all  our  suffering  comes  from 
some  violation  of  law  it  will  tend  to  tlie  discovery  of 
that  law,  and  so  to  the  ultimate  benefit  of  the  human 
race ;  and  secondly,  long  and  long  before  the  human 
race  can  reap  any  benefit  from  it,  we  ourselves,  on 
the  spot,  may  turn  it  to  the  very  best  of  purposes, 
to  forming  a  noble  character  —  may  b}-  it  lift  our 
thoughts  away  from  this  world  where  so  much  is 
wrong  to  another  world  where  all  will  be  bright ;  and 
so  every  trouble  is  but  a  reminder  of  the  eternal 
happiness.  ''Therefore,  my  beloved  brethren,  be  ye 
steadfast,  immovable,  always  abounding  in  the  work 
of  the  Lord  —  forasmuch  as  ye  know  that  your  labor 
is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord." 


SEPTEMBER  21,  1865. 

Thursday  Mary  came  up  in  the  morning  and  went 
to  the  reception  with  us  in  a  great  market  wagon  fur 
nished  with  scats,  something  like  a  mountain  wagon. 
The  reception  was  very  successful.  There  was  plenty 
of  food  and  very  good,  no  rudeness,  no  rushing  to 
the  table,  no  boisterous  laughing  or  talking.  Every 
thing  was  done  decently  and  in  order.  After  the 
white  dancing  was  over  Elias  Haskell,  his  two  daugh 
ters,  and  another  man  danced.  It  was  as  good  danc 
ing  as  I  ever  saw,  graceful,  elastic,  and  lithe,  not 
withstanding  their  uncouth  figures  and  large,  heavy 
feet.  Mr.  French  went  away  before  the  dancing 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  519 

began.  Mrs.  I),  said  she  had  done  all  she  could  — 
warned  Mr.  French  away,  and  told  Peters  l  to  get 
under  the  table  and  she  would  put  the  table-cloth  over 
him.  Mr.  James  wants  to  come  down  and  see  me, 
but  I  told  him  he  had  waited  so  long  he  might  as  well 
wait  a  little  longer  till  I  get  my  new  carpet  and  then 
come  down  and  inaugurate  it. 

[To  MR.  F.] 

SEPTEMBER  23. 

I  am  sorry  you  are  gone  to  Amherst.  It  was  so 
nice  to  have  you  in  Boston  where  I  could  run  in  and 
out  and  rest  myself  with  the  sight  of  your  kindly  face 
and  the  sound  of  your  pleasant  voice,  and  now  you 
are  miles  and  miles  beyond  reach,  and  my  bird  is 
dead  and  buried  in  a  corner  of  my  garden,  and  my 
garden  itself  is  dust  and  ashes,  dead  of  thirst  while  I 
was  in  Vermont,  and  besides,  by  and  by,  I  was  going 
to  have  an  inaugural  ball  to  commemorate  the  re 
habilitation  of  my  rooms,  and  invite  you  and  have 
"refreshments,"  and  where  are  you?  Wound  all  up 
in  a  cocoon  of  Agricultural  Colleges  and  boarding. 
But  then  you  are  doing  a  good  work,  and  I  ought  to 
be  thankful  the  right  man  has  got  hold  of  it,  and  I 
am.  You  will  be  the  first  President.  Only  think 
what  an  old  man  you  will  be  when  posterity  gets  hold 
of  you,  a  solemn  stalking-horse  (what  that  is  I  don't 
know) ,  as  Cotton  Mather  and  his  like  are  to  us.  How 
few  there  will  be  who  will  feel  that  you  ever  made 
jokes  or  laughed  heartily,  wrote  letters  to  me,  —  nice 
ones  too,  and  some  not  so  nice,  quite  ill-natured,  in 
fact !  Where  do  you  suppose  you  and  I  will  be  when 

1  The  minister  and  deacon.  —  ED. 


520     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

the  antiquarians  are  hunting  up  our  dates  in  some  old 
biographical  dictionary,  and  what  shall  we  be  ? 

OCTOBER  7. 

One  fact  worthy  of  note  I  must  not  forget,  that 
there  is  a  telegraph  running  through  Hamilton,  though 
we  shall  derive  little  benefit  from  it  except  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  it  run.  It  follows  the  high-road. 
The  wires  are  not  yet  up,  only  the  poles.  Last  Sun 
day  Professor  Jewett  preached  very  acceptably  —  the 
one  who  lost  his  leg  by  a  railway  accident  several 
years  ago,  and  then  invented  another  in  some  points 
superior  to  the  original.  At  the  P.O.  I  found  I  had 
lost  my  purse.  I  instituted  a  search  and  discovered  it 
lying  on  the  grass  in  front  of  the  barn,  where  it  had 
dropped  the  night  before ;  about  twenty  dollars  in 
it.  Thursday  I  had  a  letter  from  Whittier  saying 
that  he  was  ill  and  could  not  come,  but  would  come 
some  other  time,  unless  the  invitation  was  like  rail 
road  tickets  —  "  good  for  this  day  only."  Whittier's 
niece  is  going  to  school  at  Ipswich  after  Thanksgiving, 
and  he  wants  me  then  to  come  over  and  make  a  long 
visit,  and  says  :  ' '  Thee  shall  sleep  on  feathers  above 
and  below  like  a  Dutch  woman  if  thee  like,  and  say 
and  do  just  what  thee  pleases,  and  I  will  be  pleased 
with  everything."  Friday  evening  in  the  coach  came 
Judge  French.  We  went  over  to  Mr.  D's  for  an  hour, 
as  they  wanted  to  talk  about  the  college.  Mr.  D. 
was  expecting  a  negro  lecturer  there,  and  when  we 
came  supposed  it  was  he  and  his  wife  till  we  were 
fairly  in  the  house.  His  first  coolness  and  his  sec 
ondary  surprise  were  very  comical.  "When  we  came 
back  we  got  a  little  lunch,  and  sat  up  talking  and 
walking,  for  he  can  keep  still  no  more  than  I  —  till  I 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  521 

asked  him  what  time  it  was.  He  said,  oh!  no  mat 
ter,  he  didn't  know  what  time  it  was.  I  said  it  must 
be  as  much  as  ten  o'clock,  and  then  he  took  out  his 
watch  and  said  it  had  been  tea  o'clock  —  'twas  now 
about  quarter  after  twelve,  whereupon  we  adjourned 
the  meeting.  He  went  away  in  the  8.30  train.  He 
is  good-looking,  rather  short,  very  clean  and  nice, 
very  penetrating  eye,  nervous,  entertaining,  says 
quaint  little  things  in  a  quaint  way.  We  had  been 
disputing  about  something,  and  I  said,  "  Mr.  French, 
I  am  persuaded  at  heart  we  think  alike  if  we  could 
only  know."  "I  flatter  myself  we  don't,"  with  a 
funny  look  that  makes  you  laugh  in  spite  of  yourself. 
He  is  gentlemanly  and  orthodox,  though,  as  he  says, 
"not  grossly  so."  He  says  he  would  rather  be  a 
puppy  in  a  basket  with  three  other  puppies  than  pres 
ident  of  a  college  in  Amherst  with  only  one  other 
president  in  town,  and  he  in  the  other  basket ! 

I  had  a  letter  lately  from  Mr.  Gage  in  Gotha,  where 
the  second  wife  and  most  of  the  children  of  Perthes 
live,  and  he  knows  them  well  and  says  they  are  in 
every  sense  the  best  people  of  Gotha.  There  is  not 
a  descendant  of  Perthes  living  who  does  not  do  honor 
to  the  founder  of  the  family  —  which  I  think  is  very 
remarkable.  Mrs.  Rev.  Pike  of  Rowley  drove  over 
yesterday  and  brought  Miss  Annie  Jacques,  daughter 
of  old  Dr.  Jacques,  to  whom  mother  used  to  go  to 
school.  They  only  stayed  a  short  half  hour. 

[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

OCTOBER  16. 

It  is  remarkable  to  see  how  full-grown  men  and 
women  will  behave  like  very  children,  but  the  world's 
work  has  to  be  done  in  spite  of  their  weakness  and 


522     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

evil  behavior.  Here,  now,  is  this  Agricultural  Col 
lege  to  be  got  under  way,  and  you  are  the  man  to  do 
it,  and,  if  all  sorts  of  pettinesses  are  to  be  encoun 
tered,  why,  then,  you  must  encounter  them,  that's 
all.  You  must  look  at  what  is  to  be  done,  not  at 
what  stands  in  the  way  of  its  doing.  "When  you  are 
vexed  by  mean  little  personal  piques,  and  small 
views  and  narrow  jealousies,  you  must  inwardly  re 
solve  yourself  to  pass  by  a  thousand  leagues  on 
the  other  side  of  them,  so  you  shall  make  even 
these  stumbling-blocks  stepping-stones  to  greatness. 
Above  all  things,  don't  let  them  sour  and  sharpen 
you,  and  destroy  your  peace  of  mind.  I  don't  sup 
pose  any  great  thing  was  ever  done  without  being  sur 
rounded  by  just  such  a  fog  of  little  things,  only  we 
don't  always  see  them. 

Now  if  you  pin  me  down  to  syllogisms,  why,  I 
confess  I  have  not  the  smallest  reason  to  offer  for 
writing  to  you.  I  don't  doubt  your  grandmother  said 
all  these  things  to  you  hundreds  of  years  ago,  and 
your  mother  repeated  them,  and  "Pamela"  fortifies 
you  against  all  ills  every  day  of  her  life,  let  alone 
your  own  good  sense.  Still,  there  never  can  a  pie 
come  mincing  up  but  up  jump  I,  and  must  immedi 
ately  put  my  finger  in  it.  Moreover,  don't  you  know, 
we  all  do  things,  sometimes,  because  we  like  to  do 
them,  rather  than  because  we  really  expect  to  accom 
plish  anything  by  them?  If  you  had  broken  your 
arm  I  should  run  in  to  see  you  next  morning,  with 
out  the  smallest  expectation  of  setting  it,  but  simply 
because  it  was  a  matter  of  concern  with  me  that  you 
had  broken  your  arm.  Well,  now,  isn't  it  a  great  deal 
worse  to  have  stupid  persons  breaking  your  plans,  or 
at  least,  straining  and  cracking  them,  than  to  have 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  523 

the  forces  of  nature  thumping  at  your  bones?  If  you 
only  could  come  down  and  see  me  this  morning ! 
There  is  a  nice  coal-fire,  and  it  is  so  dismal  out-doors. 
If  all  nice  people  could  be  born  old  friends  how  nice 
it  would  be  !  There  is  this,  however,  that  when  things 
go  smoothly  I  don't  think  I  care  much  about  people 
anyway,  but  when  the  rough  and  rasping  comes,  why, 
then  I  feel  as  if  I  would  like  to  do  something.  I 
rather  think  I  was  born  for  adversity,  as  against  pros 
perity.  When  people  are  happy  I  don't  in  the  least 
know  what  to  do  about  it,  except  let  them  alone. 
When  a  gale  ruffles  the  surface  then  }'ou  may  at  least 
keep  a  lookout.  When  you  get  tired  and  fretted  yon 
must  comfort  yourself  with  the  end  in  view — and 
what  did  the  old  Frenchman  say?  —  "  Rest?  I  shall 
have  all  eternity  to  rest  in"  —  or  something  like  that, 
somebody  said. 

Quite  an  event  happened  in  church  yesterday.  A 
minister  got  hold  of  an  idea,  —  not  our  own,  but  a 
neighboring  clergyman,  —  a  man  of  rut  and  routine,  — 
got  a  real,  living  truth  on  his  lips,  and  announced  it 
as  the  theme  of  his  discourse,  and  I  sat  wondering 
whereuuto  this  thing  would  grow,  and  mentally  warn 
ing  him,  a  la  Joe  Gargery,  "  Pip,  old  chap,  you'll  do 
yourself  a  mischief.  You  can't  have  chawed  it, 
Pip  !  "  However,  he  did  no  more  harm  with  it  than 
a  child  with  a  silver  dollar.  It  was  too  big  for  him 
to  swallow,  so  he  did  not  strangle,  and  he  was  not 
strong  enough  to  hurl  it  away,  so  he  neither  lost  it 
nor  broke  the  windows  with  it,  but  quietly  put  it  iu 
his  pocket,  and  walked  home  under  his  umbrella, 
complacently  unconscious  of  the  jewel  he  had  been 
sporting  with. 

Now  you  have  got  into  the  Agricultural  College, 


524     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

and  you  must  stay  there  till  you  can  get  into  heaven, 
and  never  look  back.  It  won't  be  a  great  while,  any 
way,  and  it  does  not  matter  much  what  we  do  for 
the  few  years  we  are  here,  if  it  is  only  honest  work 
honestly  done.  And  this  is  manifestly  and  preemi 
nently  your  work.  If  it  were  all  plain  sailing  any 
body  could  do  it.  But  if  the  sea  is  stormy  so  much 
the  more  need  of  a  skilful  manner. 

Wherefore,  I  pray,  the  very  God  of  peace  sanctify 
you  wholly. 

OCTOBER  20. 

They  are  getting  up  a  barrel  of  clothes  here  for  the 
contrabands,  and  trying  to  get  money  enough  to  buy  a 
new  furnace  for  our  side  of  the  meeting-house.  I 
gave  a  little  money  rather  dubiously,  as  I  am  just 
now  undecided  as  to  whether  it  is  not  the  best  thing 
to  tear  down  all  our  meeting-houses,  throw  ecclesias- 
ticism  back  to  chaos,  and  see  if  we  cannot  crystallize 
anew  into  some  better  forms.  At  least,  I  should  be 
glad  of  something  that  would  make  people  study  the 
Bible.  However,  I  go  to  church  regularly  —  walking 
orderly  and  keeping  the  law  like  Paul,  though  I  do 
not  believe  in  it  any  more  than  he  did  —  by  law  I 
don't  mean  the  doctrine  of  the  Bible,  but  the  com 
mandments  of  men. 

[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

NOVEMBER  14. 

I  don't  believe  that  stupidity  is  the  essence  of 
religion,  nor  strangeness  the  essence  of  reverence. 
It  seems  to  me  the  good  God  himself  must  look  upon 
sundry  of  our  ecclesiastical  antics  as  very  ridiculous, 
let  alone  those  which  are  something  worse.  I  think 
you  like  me  a  little  and  I  am  very  glad.  I  mean  that 


BUSY   YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  525 

you  rather  like  me  than  otherwise.  Every  additional 
friend  helps  you  to  keep  yourself  in  countenance.  I 
don't  know  that  humility  is  my  weakness.  I  believe 
it  is  not  generally  so  considered,  but  it  always  rather 
surprises  me  to  be  tolerated,  I  seem  to  myself  so  — 
so  dreadful,  somehow,  that  I  don't  see  what  kind  of 
eyes  they  can  be  that  see  otherwise. 

I  do  not  think  it  is  in  the  least  odd  that  you  should 
treasure  up  Mrs.  S's  letters  if  they  are  as  good  as 
those  she  writes  me.  They  are  better  than  most 
books.  I  should  expect  you  to  do  the  same  with 
mine  if  they  were  one  half  as  good,  and  not  only 
that,  but  to  publish  them  after  my  lamented  demise, 
and  my  sole  regret  would  be  that  I  should  not  be 
alive  to  read  them  myself  !  What  I  should  like  in 
this  world  is  perfect  freedom  of  circulation  among 
moral  atomies  just  as  there  is  among  the  physical 
atoms  in  water  and  air.  I  suppose  it  is  on  account 
of  the  hardness  of  our  hearts  that  society  is  solid  and 
not  liquid.  Nobody  wants  everything  of  anybody, 
but  you  do  like  one  thing  from  one,  and  another  from 
another,  and  if  only  there  were  no  palings  to  forbid, 
how  would  one  "  gather  honey  all  the  day  from  every 
opening  flower"  and  nourish  for  himself  such  juicy 
life  !  I  see  quite  well  that  it  is  best  as  it  is  because 
life  in  ordinary  is  so  very,  very,  very  low  —  but  one 
can  conceive  it  might  be  so  high  and  heavenly  that 
we  might  mount  up  with  wings  as  angels.  I  some 
times  wonder  whether  the  earth  always  will  be  so 
badly  off  as  now.  Certainly  our  lungs  have  a  possi 
bility  of  adaptation  to  sweeter  airs,  and  our  eyes  arc 
not  blind  in  a  purer  light.  Now  you  will  be  sure  to 
say  here  that  I  think  I  am  too  good  for  this  world. 
No,  I  don't  think  anything  of  the  kind.  I  am  not  too 


526     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IX   LETTERS 

good  for  the  world  as  God  made  it,  but  I  think  I 
could  stand  a  little  better  world  than  society  has  made 
it  over !  I  am  not  very  good,  though,  and  it  does 
not  matter  much  one  wa}T  or  the  other.  You  need 
not  give  your  false  date  to  Mr.  D.  and  your  true 
one  to  me,  for  he  writes  letters  on  Sundays,  and 
reads  the  papers,  and  such  things,  which  I  don't. 
There  is  seldom  any  use  in  trying  to  reproduce  things. 
You  know  I  tried  to  make  you  all  along  be  content 
with  such  things  as  ye  have,  and  you  are  come  to  it 
at  last. 

What  am  I  writing?  A  letter  to  you.  My  plans 
for  winter?  Nothing,  only  to  live  on,  and  on,  and 
on,  till  I  am  called  hence  ;  and  if  God  will  only  con 
tinue  to  me  health  and  strength  to  work,  and  work, 
and  work,  I  will  ask  for  myself  nothing  more ;  that 
is,  you  know,  nothing  very  strenuously.  But,  then, 
the  Lord  does  not  always  give  you  what  you  ask ;  so 
it  is  well  always  to  be  prepared  for  the  worst,  and 
the  best  way,  I  suspect,  is  to  think  nothing  about  it. 
I  am  real  glad  to  be  alive.  I  am  glad  I  was  born  in 
the  first  place.  It  does  not  seem  as  if  there  was  any 
world  till  I  came  into  it.  Is  that  modesty?  And 
when  I  think  of  the  possibility  even  of  living  forever, 
and  the  sun  growing  every  day  brighter  and  the  skies 
bluer,  and  the  infinite  heavens  opening  up  to  you, 
isn't  it  glorious?  I  wonder  if  I  ever  shall  sit  down 
and  have  a  real  good  long  talk  with  Paul.  I  believe 
I  like  him  the  best  of  them  all.  I  can't  conceive  he 
should  ever  take  the  least  notice  of  me ;  but  if  he 
should  give  lectures  I  could  go  and  hear  them,  and 
there  is  so  much  true  in  heaven  that  one  could  very 
well  afford  to  wait.  If  he  is  as  far  ahead  there  as  he 
is  here  I  should  have  to  wait  pretty  long. 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  537 

It  is  lovely  Indian  summer  to-day,  but  the  winter 
is  upon  us,  for  all  that.  And  under  the  winter  lies 
the  spring  hidden,  and  under  all  the  springs  the  sun 
shine  of  an  unspeakable  spring.  Let  us  be  as  good 
as  possible,  that  we  may  enter  into  its  peace.  I 
should  like  to  see  you  to-morrow,  but  of  course  I 
cannot.  I  think  it  is  an  absolute  pleasure  to  wish  to 
see  people  and  can't,  compared  with  what  it  is  to  hate 
to  see  them  and  must.  Do  you  suppose  you  would 
know  it  if  I  did  not  like  you?  Seems  as  if  you 
would.  Yet  there  are  people  whose  faces  enrage  me, 
and  they  don't  know  it.  I  have  the  most  violent 
dislike  —  mere  physical  repulsion  —  towards  people 
against  whose  character  I  have  nothing  to  say.  I 
don't  like  to  dislike  persons,  but  I  can't  help  it 
sometimes. 

Now  good-by.  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled 
about  anything.  I  stood  at  the  Salem  station  yester 
day  when  both  trains  were  expected,  aud  the  platform 
was  crowded,  and  wondered  whether,  in  the  eyes  of 
angels,  we  were  more  than  so  many  ants  crawling  in 
and  out  of  a  hole.  But  Christ  died  for  us.  You 
can't  get  over  that.  And  I  suppose  an  ant  is  well 
enough  off  so  long  as  he  does  not  know  there  is  an  I, 
and  so  is  not  envious.  Good-by.  Be  kind  to  me 
always,  and  believe  that  I  wish  to  do  you  only  good, 
and  not  evil,  all  the  days  of  my  life.  By  kind  I  mean 
you  are  always  to  interpret  me  according  to  your 
wishes,  and  not  necessarily  according  to  my  mani 
festation.  Yet  what  hope  is  there  that  you  will, 
since  the  Bible  says  that  man  looketh — and  must  — 
on  the  outward  appearance,  the  Lord  alone  in  the 
heart?  and  then  I  am  afraid,  too,  the  heart  isn't  any 
better  than  what  is  outside  of  it. 


528    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

NOVEMBER  16. 

I  went  to  Boston  Wednesday  to  Charles  Street. 
At  three  o'clock  a  little  dinner-party  of  five  or  six 
was  sprung  upon  me  unawares,  which  explained  Mr. 
F's  anxiety  that  I  should  be  there  that  day.  Miss 
Palfrey  was  of  the  number,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James, 
and  Mr.  Quincy,  of  Quincy,  son  of  Josiah,  and  grand 
son  of  the  first  Josiah.  I  enjoyed  it  very  much. 
Mrs.  James  is  a  fine  woman,  physically  and  morally, 
healthy  and  happy,  and  with  great  good  sense.  Mr. 
James  is  very  funny,  and  uncommonplace  and  enter 
taining.  Mr.  Quincy  has  a  slight  defect  in  speech 
and  hearing,  but  is  gentlemanly  and  refined.  Aldrich, 
the  poet,  "a  little  New  York  poet,"  as  one  of  our 
Boston  solid  men  said,  was  there  the  latter  part  of 
the  evening. 

NOVEMBER  27,  1865. 

In  sight  of  Mrs.  Spalding's  house  I  saw  Mr.  G.  W. 
Curtis  just  going  in.  He  stayed  there  all  night,  so  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  something  of  him.  After 
the  lecture,  Harriet  Prescott,  a  Miss  Andrews  (who 
wrote  "Seven  Little  Sisters,"  etc.),  and  a  Mr.  Hale 
came  in  by  invitation,  and  we  had  oyster  supper  and 
talk,  and  a  little  more  of  the  latter  after  they  were 
gone,  and  went  to  bed  about  1  A.M.  Mr.  Curtis  is 
as  agreeable  in  private  as  he  is  pleasing  in  public. 
He  is  natural,  gentle,  manly,  refined,  simple  and 
unpretending,  and  quiet.  I  liked  him  very  much. 
There  is  a  certain  lackadaisicalness  in  his  published 
portrait  which  is  not  seen  in  his  face. 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  529 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

NOVEMBER  23,   18G5. 

Desire  mv  regards  to  Mrs.  Bridge,  and  make  my 
congratulations  concerning  the  new  carpet,  but  I  think 
it  can  hardly  be  fairer  than  mine.  Mine  is  of  my  own 
choosing.  I  might  almost  say  of  my  own  invention, 
since  I  described  what  I  wanted,  and  this  was  pro 
duced,  and  I  had  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind. 
This,  do  you  care  to  know,  is  a  bed  of  moss,  soft 
and  damp  and  deep  with  little  vines  creeping  through 
it,  with  the  coolness  of  summer  brooks  breathing  out 
of  it  and  their  murmur  whispering  up  from  its  green 
ness.  Here  the  sunlight  falls  and  rests,  here  the  day 
softens  its  whiteness  into  dim  religious  light,  and  here 
my  Madonna  and  her  child,  my  poets  and  my  dreams 
of  fair  women,  my  angels,  and  my  wildwood  flowers 
find  a  fitting  background  for  their  loveliness.  Do 
not  talk  to  me  of  carpets  !  And  through  the  windows 
the  earth  is  putting  off  her  robes  of  summer,  yes,  and 
her  gorgeous  autumn  trappings,  too,  and  the  blue  skies 
are  doing  their  best  to  make  us  forget,  in  their  splen 
dor,  the  glories  that  have  vanished. 

Miss  Nettie's  bonnet,  I  trust,  is  a  little  ultra.  Her 
too  adventurous  pencil,  let  us  hope,  is  hovering  on  the 
borderland  of  romance.  My  bonnet  has  not  yet 
come  home.  When  it  does  so  I  shall  be  better  able 
to  garner  for  you  its  golden  drops.  Meanwhile,  my 
new  dress  is  made  and  bordered  with  the  most  exqui 
site  chenille  fringe,  whose  texture,  color,  and  price 
would  throw  you  into  raptures,  and  a  morning  dress 
of  poetic  gray,  the  ashes  of  most  tropical  roses, 
bordered  with  silken  green  of  the  buds  whence  they 
sprang,  rows  upon  rows,  or  you  might  spell  it  r-o-s-e 


530     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

if  you  like,  and  fronted  with  pearl  buttons,  shining  as 
the  stars,  and  trailing  in  all  its  green  and  rosy  length 
behind  me  —  ah  !  you  should  see  that,  if  "  a  thing  of 
beauty  is  a  joy  forever,"  but  not  upon  me,  lest  your 
vision  should  fail  to  discern  the  appositeness  of  the 
([notation. 

I  went  to  Newburyport  the  other  day  and  refreshed 
myself  with  my  friends  there,  but  Harriet  Prescott  is 
grown  sadly  thin.  She  is  over- worked  or  she  over 
lives  in  some  way.  I  met  also  a  very  charming  Miss 
Andrews,  one  of  a  very  charming  family,  painters  of 
pictures  and  makers  of  books. 

I  am  going  to  have  a  new  ring.  An  old  friend  and 
school-mate  of  mine  ]  has  just  come  home  from  a  ten 
years'  wandering  round  the  world,  with  an  honest 
heart  and  a  wholesome  face,  and  brought  me  a  bit  of 
yellow  gold,  which  I  think  can  best  be  kept  mine  by 
being  circled  around  my  finger,  so  I  shall  have  a  souve 
nir  of  the  world  and  the  eternity  that  preceded  it. 

My  mother  desires  to  be  remembered,  and  so  does 
my  sister,  who  receives  your  messages  with  that  defer 
ence  which  is  your  due,  and  reads  your  stories  with  a 
trust  beautiful  to  see,  but  difficult  (for  me)  to  com 
mand  ! 

With  which  poisoned  dart  good-night. 

[To  JUDGE  FRENCH.] 

DECEMBER  16,  1865. 

I  am  quite  interested  in  your  little  honey-bee  of  a 
Hatty,  who  so  skilfully  has  bought  her  cell,  so  neatly 
spread  her  whacks,  and  labors  hard  to  store  it  well 
with  the  sweet  food  she  makes.  Only  don't  let  Major 

1  Oliver  8.  Creasy,  Hamilton,  Mass.,  died  in  1900. 


BUSY    YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  531 

Bijah  make  haste  to  be  rich.  They  are  perfectly  well 
off  if  they  will  only  think  so,  and  there  is  so  much 
dignity  in  being  grand  in  a  small  way ! 

You  said  if  I  did  not  much  prefer  to  meet  you  than 
St.  Paul  in  the  skies,  you  would  drop  the  correspon 
dence  !  Drop,  then,  for  I  don't.  I  never  saw  such  an 
effect  as  a  little  social  elevation  will  have  even  on  a 
modest  man.  Before  you  were  President  you  were 
agreeable  and  knew  your  place.  Now  you  assume 
the  god,  affect  to  nod,  and  seem  to  shake  the  sphere, 
and  you  call  Paul  logical  and  hard,  —  Paul  with  all 
his  glow  and  glory,  his  logic  throbbing  with  inward 
fire  that  shines  through  so  bright,  you  are  ready  to 
think  it  not  logic  at  all  but  passionate  persuasion.  I 
know  they  had  poor  low  ideas,  — for  such  belong  to 
their  age,  —  but  you  don't  like  people  for  their  ideas 
but  for  themselves.  Their  character  is  much  more 
themselves  than  their  opinions.  You  say  we  have 
been  improving  too?  But  have  they  not  eighteen 
hundred  years  the  start  of  us  in  Hamilton  —  I  mean 
Heaven?  Truly  that  was  a  mistake,  and  don't  you 
suppose  they  are  better  off  for  being  all  that  time  in 
Heaven  and  born,  than  we  are  for  being  on  earth 
and  not  born,  till  a  few  minutes  ago?  I  expect  to 
enjoy  Paul  and  the  others,  too.  I  think  he  was  wrong 
in  some  things.  I  think  if  he  had  had  more  good 
women  among  his  acquaintance  he  would  have  liked 
us  all  better.  But  that  was  a  mistake  of  the  head, 
not  of  the  heart.  I  think  he  was  just  the  man  whom 
a  right  sort  of  wife  would  have  finished  up,  and  he 
would  have  made  her  happy.  And  I  hope  the  time 
will  come  when  I  shall  sit  down  by  Paul,  and  take 
his  two  hands  and  say  in  what  beautiful  heavenly 
words  I  may  know  how  to  use,  —  "Paul,  beloved, 


532     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

glorious,  manly,  fiery,  dear  old  Paul,  almost  as  soon 
as  you  got  to  Heaven,  didn't  you  know  you  were 
wrong,  and  aren't  you  glad  to  have  me  like  you, 
and  won't  you  go  and  take  a  walk  some  time  and 
tell  me  all  about  it?"  And  he  will  be  just  as  sweet 
and  gentle  and  smiling  and  good  uatured  as  an 
angel  can  be  who  was  a  good  sort  of  man  to  begin 
with,  and  has  been  growing  good  all  the  time  for 
eighteen  hundred  years,  and  is  therefore  pitiful  to 
all  poor  little  know-nothings  lost  in  the  snow  like 
me. 

Thank  you  for  your  haggyrogometer,  but  we  don't 
want  it.  We've  got  a  pump  in  the  sink.  It  won't 
pump  anything,  to  be  sure,  but  there  'tis.  We've 
got  a  new  well,  too,  with  four  feet  of  water  in  it 
and  likely  to  stay  there,  unless  we  walk  down  and 
dip  it  out.  Still,  it  is  a  handy  thing  to  have  round. 
Have  you  seen  the  face  in  "Robertson's  Life  and 
Letters"?  I  think  it  is  a  wonderful  face,  and  he  was 
a  wonderful  man  too,  a  little  morbid,  owing  proba 
bly  to  disease,  not  so  strong  as  he  would  have  been 
if  he  had  been  quite  well.  If  he  had  only  been  a 
little  stronger  we  should  never  have  known  how 
strong  he  was — as  the  measure  of  our  weakness 
is  the  measure  of  our  strength  if  we  conquer  it. 
However,  as  a  general  thing,  people  judge  you  by 
what  you  complain  of,  not  by  what  you  endure,  so 
that  the  outcry  does  really  sometimes  diminish  the 
pain.  Yet  hardly  in  his  case  —  for  his  sorrow  was 
loneliness  which  is  irremediable.  But  should  you 
think  any  one  who  was  happily  married  could  have 
suffered  so  from  mere  loneliness?  Are  not  husband 
and  wife  company?  Suppose  outsiders  did  oppose 
—  to  meet  them  was  his  mission.  I  am  sorry  I 


BUSY  YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  533 

began  on  this  subject,  for  its  proper  treatment  re 
quires  an  octavo  volume  with  a  preface,  appendix, 
and  copious  illustrations.  And  then  you  wouldn't 
read  it  if  I  wrote  it.  A  Merry  Christmas  to  you 
and  a  Happy  New  Year. 

JANUARY  17,  1866. 

I  meant  to  send  you  a  letter  yesterday,  not  that 
you  deserve  one  at  all  at  my  hands,  but  I  had  a  quite 
nice  little  fit  of  sickness,  headache  and  chills,  and 
fainting  and  onions,  and  hot  water  and  everything,  in 
good  shape.  To-day  I  am  better,  but  not  quite 
natural  again.  Sore  throat  and  such  things,  you 
know,  and  nothing  tastes  right.  So  give  me  the  credit 
once  of  being  ill. 

You  have  written  me  two  letters,  both  of  which 
need  attention.  Your  letters  are  generally  rather 
provoking.  That  word  has  two  meanings,  you  know. 
Doesn't  the  apostle,  or  some  of  your  favorite  friends, 
speak  of  provoking  to  love  and  good  works  ?  Perhaps 
that  is  the  kind  you  mean.  I  am  always  afraid  you 
have  forgotten  all  about  your  own  letter,  and  if  you 
don't  recall  it  you  must  take  my  word  for  it  that  I 
asked  you  a  civil  question,  and  you  replied  with  a  page 
or  two  of  utterly  irrelevant  —  what  I  do  not  ill-char 
acterize  when  I  call  it  "stuff."  I  ask  you  some 
thing  about  Mr.  Robertson,  and  you  reply  with  a 
tangle  of  talk  about  my  husband  and  children,  besides 
a  great  deal  of  bad  talk  about  the  man  himself.  I 
believe  I  will  write  a  paper  and  put  you  in  it. 

What  has  the  resurrection  of  the  body  to  do  with 
husband  and  wife?  If  there's  enough  of  you  left  in 
the  next  world  to  be  yourself  who  cares  what  is 
gone.  For  my  part,  I  can't  say  I  have  such  an 


534    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

admiration  of  my  body  as  to  make  things  hinge  on  it 
so  much. 

What  do  I  do  all  winter?  I  am  as  busy  as  a  bee 
from  morning  till  night  —  only  yesterday,  when  I  lay 
on  the  sofa  all  day,  a  heap  of  blankets  burning  hot, 
and  with  a  hard  headache,  meditating  whether  we 
were  not  irresistibly  gravitating  towards  universal 
suffrage,  and  upon  the  general  tendencies  of  things. 
We  don't  have  a  great  deal  of  company,  and  we  don't 
go  away  much,  but  the  days  are  never  long.  But  we 
do  have  the  best  of  company.  Swinburne  has  been 
down  here  for  three  weeks  or  so,  charming  me  with 
his  choruses,  and  Mill  is  always  here  at  call,  which  is 
about  once  a  year.  He  is  a  great  rest  and  solace  and 
hope  to  me.  I  have  a  call  every  evening  from  Louis 
Napoleon,  but  I  cannot  say  I  find  him  very  entertain 
ing.  But  he  brings  a  very  charming  companion  — 
one  About.  In  fact,  it  would  take  me  a  long  while 
just  to  name  the  people  who  come  to  see  me,  and  who 
talk  their  very  best  in  my  society.  But  I  see  them 
only  in  the  evening  —  all  the  morning  I  am  frittering 
away  my  time  about  the  house,  and  the  rest  of  the  day 
I  am  fretting  other  people  with  my  gray  goose  quill, 
and  in  the  evenings  I  have  my  receptions.  I  know 
all  about  M.  Augelo,  Esq.,  and  his  bar,  and  when 
you  come  down  here  to  read  Tennyson,  I  will  tell 
you.  I  wish  this  was  a  nice  letter,  but  I  know  it 
isn't  as  well  as  you.  But  don't  you  think  it  is  good 
in  me  to  write  at  all  when  I  am  sick,  just  to  please 
you?  Now  if  you  had  been  having  roasted  onions 
and  hot  paving-stones  and  things  all  night,  you  would 
think  you  must  have  Pamela  waiting  upon  you  all  day 
by  inches,  as  she  would  and  be  glad  of  the  chance. 
I  wish  you  would  pay  her  my  regards  and  say  to  her 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  535 

that  I  am  glad  to  hear  her  s:iy  some  sensible  things 
which  I  believe,  but  which  if  I  state  are  at  once  met 
with  "you  don't  know  anything  about  it." 

I  am  very  busy  indeed.  I  shall  not  go  to  Wash 
ington  this  winter. 

I  am  glad  you  had  fifty  dollars  to  send  to  your 
mother  and  that  she  had  a  son  to  send  it  to  her. 
What  is  going  to  become  of  me  when  I  am  old  and 
gray-headed  ?  I  don't  know  and  I  don't  much  care  if 
I  can  only  have  my  health  and  my  senses.  But  you 
know,  don't  you,  that  by  an  injury  when  I  was  a  little 
child  I  lost  the  sight  of  one  eye,  and  there  comes  over 
me  a  great  dread  sometimes  lest  I  may  lose  the  other, 
and  have  a  horror  of  great  darkness.  If  I  were 
married  I  should  have  somebody  whose  duty  it  would 
be  to  look  after  rne,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  how 
fearful  to  be  such  a  burden  on  anybody's  hands,  so  I 
congratulate  myself  after  all  that  there  is  nobody  who 
must  do  it,  whether  or  no.  There  will  be  some  little 
room  for  choice.  I  hope  I  shall  have  money  enough 
to  take  care  of  me  in  case  worse  comes  to  worst,  but 
I  find  myself  sometimes  involuntarily  trying  to  buy 
off  Providence.  I  sort  of  bargain  with  the  Lord  —  if 
He  will  only  give  me  my  senses  and  a  usable  degree 
of  health  I  won't  mind  any  amount  of  work  or  dis 
appointment,  or  abuse,  or  anything  of  the  sort.  And 
I  hope  He  will,  and  anyway  you  are  sure  He  will  do 
what  is  not  only  right  but  best,  so  let  us  not  worry, 
you  and  I,  about  the  future,  but  trust  —  and  for  the 
rest,  help,  Lord,  our  unbelief ! 

It  is  quite  touching  that  you  should  have  to  make 
such  an  exertion  to  be  amiable.  It  comes  just  as  easy 
to  me  !  except  in  the  matter  of  onions.  The  utmost 
I  can  do  for  you  there  is  to  promise  not  to  eat  them 


536     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

when  I  am  expecting  you.  Still,  you  are  an  improve 
ment  on  Byron,  who  never  wanted  to  see  a  woman 
eat  at  all.  You  can  bear  the  act,  but  reluct  from 
certain  departments.  How  unfortunate  that  the 
pleasing  vegetable  should  have  such  low  associations. 
It  is  sweet  to  the  taste  and  good  for  food.  Can't  we 
get  Miss  Prescott  to  write  it  up,  extol  its  globular 
shapeliness,  its  pearly  hues,  its  pungent  sweetness, 
the  succulent  strength  it  distils  in  the  underground 
crucibles,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  and  so  rescue  it  to  higher 
company  and  a  loftier  life  ?  One  can  no  longer  say 
Miss  Prescott.  I  am  glad  she  is  married. 

My  verses  —  what  made  you  think  of  that  ?  You 
don't  know  what  an  avalanche  you  were  attempting 
to  pull  down  on  your  head  when  you  asked  for  all  I 
have.  I  have  written  quantities  of  it  first  and  last ; 
a  good  deal  that  is  not  in  my  possession  now.  What 
ode  do  you  mean  ?  I  send  you  two,  —  not  odes,  but 
versicles,  —  but  they  both  had  something  to  do  with 
farming,  if  that's  what  you  are  after.  I  don't  know 
when  they  were  written,  and  I  send  you  some  others 
that  I  happened  to  know  were  in  a  box  and  send-able. 
But  most  of  my  verses  were  written  long  ago,  in  the 
depths  of  an  obscurity  that  I  never  dreamed  would  be 
penetrated,  and  were,  therefore,  very  much  more, 
very  different  from  what  they  would  have  been,  had 
the  coupling  of  my  name  with  G.  H.  ever  occurred  to 
me  as  one  of  the  possibilities.  My  only  hope  is  that 
they  will  be  allowed  to  rest  in  peace  in  the  old  news 
papers  where  they  lie  buried.  For  the  greater  part, 
they  are  but  the  outcry  of  a  lost  soul,  and  of  no  sort 
of  literary  value.  I  cannot  tell  you  with  what  infinite 
pity  I  look  back  upon  the  unspeakable  loneliness  and 
bewilderment  of  my  youth.  It  does  not  seem  that  I 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  537 

am  the  same  person.  I  sometimes  think  the  sorrows 
of  young  people  are  the  saddest  things  in  life.  It  is 
so  overpowering.  They  do  not  know  how  to  locate 
them  any  more  than  your  fellows  know  where  to  put 
the  college.  I  don't  know  whether  my  experience  is 
common  to  the  race  or  not.  I  don't  know  that  I  had 
any  more  external  trouble  than  others  had,  or  have, 
except  that  there  is  no  sense  in  fighting  it  out  on 
this  line  indefinitely.  Only  you  see  how  I  could  not 
possibly  think  of  sending  you  those  safety-valve  ver- 
sicles. 

What  strange  things  moods  are !  Does  it  or 
doesn't  it  seem  sometimes  as  if  you  are  at  a  liquid 
heat,  and  all  your  secrets  melt  out  of  you,  and  when 
you  cool  and  harden  again  you  execrate  it  all,  and 
pray  to  be  turned  forever  into  cast  iron?  Now,  I 
want  to  say  something  here, —  real  good,  —  and  I  want 
to  say  it  real  hard,  but  I  am  afraid  you  would  laugh. 
I  know  there  are  concomitants,  circumstances,  and 
things  under  which  I  could  say  it,  and  it  would  be 
very  sweet  and  solemn,  and  nobody  would  think  of 
laughing  ;  but  paper  is  so  white,  and  ink  so  black, 
and  writing  so  definite,  and  snow  so  cold.  Do  you 
think  I  have  lost  my  mind?  I  never  had  such  a  great 
sight  to  lose. 

Society  is  chiefly  impersonal,  and  you  may  as  well 
make  up  your  mind  to  it;  and  my  society  will  always 
be  for  you  fragmentary  and  unsatisfactory.  Do  you 
see  there  the  quiet  lurking  assumption  that  if  it  were 
not  fragmentary  it  would  be  satisfactory  ?  But  the 
truth  is  I  am  a  sort  of  irrepressible  conflict,  —  always 
starting  out  and  drawing  back, — which  gives  me  a 
jerkiness  that  is,  to  say  the  least,  not  pleasing  ;  so 
you  need  not  ladle  out  the  fact  to  me  under  the  head 


538     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

of  recent  intelligence ;  ami  the  next  letter  I  write  to 
you  is  going  to  be  about  reconstruction,  and  the  solar 
system,  and  the  extradition  treaty,  and  similar  sensi 
ble —  objective,  but  not  objectionable;  I  might  say 
therefore  not  objectionable. 

FEBRUARY  5. 

I  shall  not  write  you  much  of  a  letter  this  time. 
I  have  such  a  pile  of  them  to  dispose  of  that  I  shall 
snub  all  those  who  are  good  enough  to  stand  snub 
bing,  —  of  whom  you  are  chief,  —  and  this  ink  is  so 
hateful !  My  kingdom  for  a  bottle  of  good  black 
ink. 

I  went  to  Amesbury  Tuesday,  and  ate  ambrosia 
and  drank  nectar  on  Olympus  till  Thursday,  and 
really  did  have  some  honey  from  Hymettus.  It  was 
bitter.  But  for  the  name  of  it  I  would  far  rather 
have  my  own  maple  syrup,  —  "Italian  sunset, "- 
wrought  from  the  life  of  New  Hampshire  forests,  of 
such  lucent  sweetness  as  you  and  Pamela  well  know. 
From  Amesbury  to  Newburyport,  and  on  board  the 
new  ship  "  Montana  "  from  stem  to  stern,  and  am 
learned  in  mastheads,  and  forecastles,  and  between- 
dccks,  and  the  cabin  was  all  velvet  and  shine  and 
lovely  ;  but  oh  !  to  go  to  bed  in  a  box  !  Would  one  not 
better  wait  till  one  can  see  foreign  countries  with  less 
trouble ;  and  I  went  on  a  sleigh-ride,  and  was  thank 
ful  for  the  kind  hand  that  drove  me  ;  but  oh !  it  was 
so  cold  ;  and  when  you  wish  to  be  civil  to  me,  ask  me 
to  come  in  and  sit  on  the  sofa,  or  to  take  a  drive  into 
the  country  some  fine  midsummer  morning,  but  don't 
ask  me  to  go  sleigh-riding.  And  Friday  evening 
Mrs.  S.  up  and  gave  a  party,  and  Saturday  I  came 
to  Ipswich,  and  visited  my  constituency,  and  then  I 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  539 

came  home,  and  put  off  my  silks  and  fine  array,  my 
smiles  and  languished  air,  and  turned  Cinderella,  and 
made  up  the  coal  fires,  and  here  I  am. 

My  verses,  — well,  you  show  a  very  carping  dispo 
sition  as  well  as  great  and  unjustifiable  avarice.  Be 
thankful  for  what  you  get,  sir,  and  be  warned  by  the 
unhappy  fate  of  your  great  ancestor,  Oliver  Twist, 
"  Take  the  good  the  gods  provide  thee."  I  know  by 
your  letter  which  one  you  have  been  reading  most, 
and  been  most  impressed  by.  It  is  the  "Battle 
Song,"  especially  the  two  lines 

"  Have  you  counted  up  the  cost, 
What  is  gained  and  what  is  lost?  " 

Well,  did  I  not  tell  you  it  would  be  so?  And  if 
you  have  made  a  disastrous  exchange  with  your 
mind's  eye,  Horatio,  must  I  put  on  sackcloth  and 
ashes?  and  my  blue  dress  still  in  its  first  freshness. 
I  think  it  was  very  good  of  you  to  take  me  around  to 
those  places  in  Boston.  I  am  deeply  convinced  of  it, 
because  the  Police  Court  and  such  things  can  have 
very  little  charm  for  you  who  have  lived  there  all 
your  days.  Sometime,  perhaps,  it  will  come  in  my 
way  to  do  something  for  you.  Probably  I  shall  not  do 
it,  long  disuse  having  marred  the  faculty ;  but  I  will 
please  myself  with  thinking  that  I  shall,  which  will 
be  the  next  best  thing. 

I  would  not  go  to  Washington,  it  is  so  cold,  and 
the  houses  there  do  not  know  how  to  warm  them 
selves.  The  blessing  of  Heaven  rest  upon  you  and 
yours  ! 

And  if  I  say  yours  truly  will  it  be  blessing  myself? 
Well,  I  need  it,  too,  so 

Yours  truly. 


540    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

FEBRUARY  19. 

My  mother  wants  me  to  go  to  Washington.  She 
informed  me  Saturday  night  that  she  thought  I  was 
confining  myself  too  closely,  that  I  was  growing  old 
faster  than  I  ought,  and  I  had  better  go  to  Washing 
ton.  I  didn't.  I  went  to  bed  instead  and  slept  all 
night  soundly ;  got  up  Sunday  morning  and  stirred 
round  among  the  coal  fires  and  got  up  a  color,  and 
then  struck  an  attitude  before  the  glass,  and  informed 
her  that  I  thought  I  looked  real  young  and  handsome. 
She  was  obliged  to  admit  both  counts,  though  she 
rather  demurred  on  the  latter.  But,  of  course,  you 
can't  look  so  fresh  and  strong  after  six  days  of  work 
as  you  can  in  the  morning  when  you  are  beginning  to 
rest.  And  then  as  if  to  drive  me  to  despair  and  octo- 
genariancy  at  one  fell  swoop,  you  must  needs  come 
up  and  shame  me  on  the  subject  of  my  curls,  as  if  I 
was  not  ashamed  enough  already,  especially  in  view 
of  what  they  will  be  a  few  years  hence.  I  have  the 
consolation  of  knowing  that  caps  are  becoming  to  me, 
but  how  dispose  of  the  waste  land  that  stretches  be 
tween  curls  and  caps?  As  for  you  or  any  other  man 
telling  me  to  comb  my  hair  out  straight  and  put  it  up 
in  the  orthodox  fashion  simply  because  I  happen  to 
be  the  last  of  the  three  fs  —  you  may  tell  me  "  till  the 
sun  grows  cold  and  the  stars  are  old  "  and  I  won't  do 
it,  because  why  should  a  woman  make  a  fright  of 
herself  ?  My  hair  looks  better  down  than  it  does  up. 
Nature  speaks  louder  for  down  hair  than  for  up  hair. 
Art's  hair  is  always  down  more  than  it  is  up,  and  it  is 
only  a  frightful  tyrant  who  would  have  mo  go  — 

I  stopped  just  there  and  went  down  to  breakfast 
and  the  post-office,  and  have  forgotten  what  I  was 
going  to  say,  so  I  will  foreclose  the  mortgage  with  a 


BUSY  YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  541 

sentiment  which  is  always  in  order,  viz.,  Britons  never 
will  be  slaves ! 

And  you  are  in  Washington.  I  wonder  if  anybody 
is  alive  now  that  was  there  when  I  was  there.  D.  W. 
Bartlett,  of  the  "Independent"  and  "  Cougregation- 
alist,"  I  knew  a  little.  There  were  the  Parkers  and 
the  Lindsleys,  and  one  B.  B.  French  I  saw  one  even 
ing,  and  Jane  C.  and  her  mother,  who  were  individual, 
and  always  amused  me  greatly,  and  Mr.  George  Wood, 
— if  you  want  to  talk  about  me,  he  is  your  man, —  and 
Mr.  Welling,  of  the  "  Intelligencer,"  I  used  to  know; 
he  always  knew  everything,  and  Mr.  Goodloe  was  a 
good  sort  of  man,  and  there  was  a  clever  little  artist, 
—  I  have  forgotten  his  name,  —  I  wonder  what  has 
become  of  him.  Well,  I  won't  go  on  with  my  cata 
logue,  only  I  hope  you  will  have  a  nice  visit.  The 
Rollinse.s  are  nice.  He  is  the  Commissioner  of  In 
ternal  Revenue,  and  she  is  a  gem  of  a  woman. 

Why  don't  you  ask  me  to  explain  the  bar  of  Michael 
Angelo  when  I  keep  forgetting  it?  Because  you  fear 
your  own  discomfiture  and  disdain  recoiling  on  your 
self,  but  I  have  no  pity  on  you  and  here  it  is.  Don't 
you  know  that  in  heraldic  phrase  the  "bar  "is  one 
of  the  "  honorable  ordinaries  "  of  the  escutcheon?  It 
consists  of  two  lines  drawn  horizontally  across  the 
field,  and  contains  one-fifth  part  of  it. 

Now  I  suppose  Mr.  Tennyson  meant  to  sav  that  his 
friend  Arthur  was  one  of  nature's  noblemen  —  that, 
like  the  great  Italian  artist,  the  shape  and  conforma 
tion  of  his  eyebrows,  and  that  part  of  the  forehead 
directly  above,  bore  an  ungainly  resemblance  to  the 
heraldic  bar,  and  gave  to  his  whole  features  the  stamp 
and  impress  of  a  rank  such  as  no  heraldic  escutcheon, 
however  richly  emblazoned,  could  bestow. 


542     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

"  Tlit-  king  can  make  a  belted  knight, 
A  Marquis,  Duke,  and  a*  that." 

But  to  make  a  man  of  noble  soul,  endow  him  with 
true  genius,  and  write  upon  his  brow,  in  legible  char 
acters,  the  appropriate  heraldic  emblems  of  such  a 
nobility. 

I  will  tell  you  somebody  I  like  —  General  Howard. 
He  is  charming.  Have  you  read  "Snow-Bound"? 
If  you  don't  delight  m  it  henceforth  we  are 
strangers. 

It  is  lovely  to-day,  and  only  think  how  near  to 
spring  !  But  it  has  been  a  good  old  winter  to  me, 
aud  1  won't  complain  of  it.  The  hens  suffered  them 
selves  to  be  deceived  by  the  sunshine,  and  have  been 
cackling  away  famously.  My,  how  beautiful  mud  is 
with  the  sun  shining  on  it !  You  know  summer  lies 
under  it,  and  I  don't  object  to  being  in  it  if  I  am 
properly  equipped.  Don't  you  think  Helen's  story  is 
a  nice  one?  I  like  to  read  good  things.  Only  when 
I  read  other  people's  things  it  makes  me  hate  my 
own. 

MARCH  7. 

It  is  as  cold  as  winter  and  windy  as  March.  But 
the  hounds  of  spring  are  on  winter's  traces,  says 
Algernon  Charles,  and  I  water  my  garden  already 
every  morning  against  the  drought  of  August.  One 
of  our  hens  laid  a  pair  of  Siamese  twins  eggs  the 
other  day.  This  is  a  plain,  unvarnished  tale.  If 
they  keep  till  next  summer  I  will  show  them  to  you. 
There  is  a  little  canal  that  joins  them,  only  it  is  broken 
in  two. 

Will  you  please  present  my  sincere  regard  and 
condolence  to  P.  and  M.  ?  The  latter  I  know  very 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  543 

well  from  a  beautiful  new  mattress  which  she  once 
made  out  of  an  old  straw  bed  or  something,  with 
everybody  in  Washington  to  help  her  except  the 
Commissioner  of  Public  Buildings,  who  coldly  stood 
aloof  and  was  content  to  be  the  historian  of  the  ex 
ploit.  Are  the  hyacinths  out  iu  the  Capitol  grounds? 
Oh,  how  beautiful  they  used  to  be !  I  wish  it  might 
be  summer  all  the  year  round.  I  wish  I  lived  in 
a  garden-house.  How  lovely  it  was  in  the  hot 
houses  iu  Washington,  all  dewy  and  cool,  just  as  it 
was  in  the  garden  of  Eden  —  which  Bela  Benjamin 
has  preempted,  according  to  your  account,  for  his 
own  use!  Must  I  then  leave  thee  (in)  Paradise? 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

MARCH   12,  1866. 

Your  following  out  the  parallel  of  Andy  Johnson 
and  Moses  was  very  ingenious  and  quite  profane, 
which  is  nothing  remarkable  for  you  !  Fred.  Douglass' 
"  Moses  and  Pharaoh  "  was  apt,  was  it  not?  Things 
are  pretty  bad  to  be  sure,  but  I  don't  think  we  have 
come  to  quite  so  narrow  a  pass  yet  as  to  call  for  a 
dissolution  of  the  Universe.  The  fact  is  you  are  so 
impatient  to  verify  your  conjectures  about  the  ora 
torios  of  Heaven  and  the  sermons  of  the  Golden- 
moutlied  Chrysostom,  that,  not  content  to  wait  the 
slow  footsteps  of  time,  you  seize  the  smallest  hitch  in 
affairs  as  an  opportunity  to  end  the  world.  A  general 
"smash-up"  is  your  grand  panacea  for  all  ills.  I 
imagine  you  rubbing  your  hands  in  glee  over  every 
new  development  of  iniquity,  and  saying  exultantly, 
Oh,  ah  !  Now  it's  coming.  For  my  part  I  am  willing 
to  do  a  little  more  tinkering  on  the  old  earth  before  I 
riiug;  it  into  the  furnace  altogether. 


544     ^AIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

[To  MR.  FRENCH.] 

MARCH  26. 

Fortunately  when  my  canary,  Cheri,  died  he  left  a 
trunkful  of  seed  with  which  I  have  regaled  tin;  poor 
little  birds.  They  come  hopping  under  the  window  - 
homely  little  things  just  like  mice  —  what  do  you  call 
them?  I  wish  they  would  come  on  the  roof  of  the 
piazza,  but  they  don't  yet.  When  Cheri  died  I  was 
glad  for  one  thing  —  he  always  seemed  lonely,  and  I 
felt  it  was  too  bad  to  keep  hitn  alone,  and  I  could 
not  have  the  care  of  little  birds,  and  I  think  it  is 
wicked  to  bring  even  little  birds  into  life  unless  you 
can  give  them  the  best  chance  at  happiness.  Why 
don't  you  read  "  Snow-Bonnd  "?  I  have  had  another 
bad  cold,  but  it  lasted  only  three  days  for  I  wrapped 
my  head  up  so  violently  that  the  cold  had  to  go  off  to 
get  a  breath  of  air. 

MARCH  30. 

Major's  verses  are  something  better  than  pretty. 
The  poetry  of  them  has  a  basis  of  solid  fact.  What 
nonsense  a  sensible  man  will  talk  about  love  !  The 
sensible  man  here  means  you,  and  it  naturally  fol 
lows  that  the  nonsense  is  yours.  In  some  respects 
you  are  sensible,  you  have  a  fineness  of  sense  quite 
rare  indeed,  but  you  have  a  materialistic  way  of 
thinking  quite  shocking.  You  can  never  seem  quite 
to  cease  being  surprised  that  M.  E.  loves  her  hus 
band,  who  is  twice  as  old  as  she.  Will  you  be  so 
good  as  to  tell  me  whether  our  loves  must  be  strictly 
contemporary,  must  be  always  a  matter  of  time?  Do 
you  suppose  if  you  and  I  should  go  to  Heaven  we 
shall  confine  ourselves  to  the  society  of  those  who 
were  born  about  the  same  year  we  were?  Don't  you 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  545 

see  that  in  this  world  the  disparity  of  age  constantly 
diminishes?  The  difference  between  a  day-old  baby 
and  a  five-year-old  baby  is  Heaven-wide,  but  five 
years  at  fifty  is  just  nothing  at  all.  By  the  time  a 
woman  is  thirty  years  old  I  take  it  she  knows  what 
she  likes  as  well  as  she  knows  it  at  fifty.  Her  tastes 
will  strengthen  and  purify  themselves  all  that  time, 
but  will  scarcely  change  their  direction.  The  kind  of 
character  that  pleased  her  at  thirty  will  please  her  at 
fifty.  Now  if  a  woman  at  thirty  sees  a  man  whose 
mental  stature  and  moral  grace  meet  her  standard, 
why  should  she  even  think  of  how  long  it  has  taken 
him  to  attain  it  —  six  or  sixty  or  six  hundred  are  all 
one. 

As  for  his  love  for  her,  I  don't  know  about  that. 
Sometimes  it  seems  to  me  that  men  love  their  second 
wives  better  than  their  first.  Or  is  it  only  that  they 
better  know  by  experience  a  woman's  nature  and  so 
are  more  tender  of  her,  arc  less  inconsiderate  and 
more  watchful,  know  more,  and  therefore  behave 
better.  If  there  is  love  there  need  be  no  theorizing, 
since  that  adjusts  all  things. 

Oh,  how  little  you  know  of  the  realities  of  life  ! 
Dreaming  away  the  happy  hours  in  your  rural  retreat, 
while  here  am  I  fronting  its  stern  realities.  Since  I 
began  this  letter,  intending  to  finish  it  at  one  sitting, 
how  many  things  have  happened.  First,  down  comes 
a  new  writing-desk  and  chair,  the  former  full  of  little 
nooks  and  drawers  and  shelves,  so  that  I  cannot  get 
things  out  of  order  however  hard  I  try ;  the  latter  a 
great  lounge  of  a  thing,  green  rep,  black  walnut,  a 
reclining-chair  swinging  back,  you  know,  when  you 
wish,  and  of  course  my  old  table  and  go-cart  are 
hustled  aside  without  ceremony.  Then  the  man  came 


546     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

to  see  about  the  pump,  and  then  the  well  betrayed 
symptoms  of  caveinatura  —  all  your  learning  won't 
help  you  in  unravelling  that,  so  I  will  just  tell  you  it 
is  the  Latin  future  infinitive,  and  means  being  about 
to  cave  in,  and  I  have  been  tearing  around  through 
the  country  at  the  greatest  rate,  but  preserving  always 
that  sweetness  of  temper  which  makes  me  beloved  by 
all  who  know  me.  And  I  have  two  rings,  one  new,  and 
one  old  re-stoned  and  generally  renovated  and  made 
into  a  seal  ring,  and  this  day  is  the  very  queen  of 
days,  warm  and  full  of  sunshine  and  heart-opening  — 
and  I  am  as  bland  as  this  April  day  for  all  the  caving- 
in  of  the  well,  and  the  thumby  fingers  of  our  Irishman, 
who  is  good-tempered  enough,  but  not  stocked  with 
original  ideas,  and  not  gifted  with  power  of  adapting 
the  original  ideas  of  others  to  practical  uses.  And 
more  than  all,  Mr.  Bradley's  bone  factory  is  burned, 
bones  and  all,  I  see  by  the  morning's  paper,  and  where 
is  my  phosphate  of  lime  to  come  from  that  was  to  turn 
my  wilderness  into  a  rose  garden?  For  it  was  Mr. 
Bradley  who  promised  me  unlimited  phosphate  as  soon 
as  the  spring  opened.  And  the  spring  has  opened  so 
smilingly,  and  to  think  that  as  long  as  you  live  the 
spring  will  open  just  so  evei'y  year,  and  if  one  only 
has  health  to  enjoy  it,  how  happy  one  may  be  !  Spring 
always  gives  me  a  kind  of  on-look  into  the  next  world, 
somehow.  I  always  think  of  heaven  in  the  spring, 
and  the  rainbow  of  promise  is  never  so  bright,  so 
glorious,  in  its  perfect  arch.  Every  good  thing  and 
every  pleasant  thing  seems  more  possible.  It  is 
easier  to  hope  and  to  love  and  to  believe.  And  now 
I  have  had  a  new  entry  lamp  come,  the  most  splendid 
thing  in  bronze  and  gilt  and  red  glass,  only  I  am 
afraid  it  is  too  fine  for  our  quiet  ways  —  do  you  think 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  547 

it  is  too  fine?  and  it  has  broken  in  upon  ray  heavenly 
meditations  in  a  very  earthly  way.  This  letter  is  per 
fect  patchwork.  I  don't  more  than  begin  a  sentence, 
and  somebody  comes,  or  something  happens. 

7s  it  "  hard  for  a  woman  to  have  no  home  of  her 
own,  no  husband  and  children"?  Well,  perhaps  you 
are  right,  but  the  trouble  I  have  happened  to  see  in 
the  world  has  come  so  largely  in  connection  with  the 
husband  and  children  that  possibly  I  have  failed  to 
give  to  the  other  side  the  attention  it  deserves.  I 
suppose  the  husband-and-child  idea  is  the  natural  one, 
but  we  have  so  mistaken  the  letter  for  the  spirit,  and 
so  crushed  the  spiiit  under  the  letter,  and  so  crucified 
the  spirit  with  the  letter,  and  so  lost  the  spirit  and 
exalted  the  letter,  that  sometimes  I  feel  rather  dis 
gusted  with  the  whole  thing,  and  would  fain  have  a 
century  or  two  of  silence  and  darkness  if  perhaps  our 
holy  things  might  throw  off  their  defilement  and  the 
whole  earth  be  sweetened  and  sanctified.  I  am  glad 
you  gave  Helen  the  money.  I  wish  men  would  always 
be  good  to  women.  It  is  so  much  the  truer  way.  It 
is  horrible  to  have  to  claim  things,  to  demand  justice, 
to  defend  yourself.  I  saw  the  first  robin  yesterday 
morning,  a  great  red-breasted,  bold  fellow  he  was, 
hopping  about  my  garden  and  picking  up  his  crumbs 
to  begin  housekeeping.  It  is  so  fascinating  now.  I 
think  it  is  all  very  well  to  mate  our  pretty  birds  if  our 
pretty  birds  wish  to  mate,  provided  always  Birdus  is 
able  to  provide  for  the  wants  of  Birda  and,  further,  if 
Birdus  and  Birda  together  can  take  proper  care  of 
Birdies,  let  them  fill  their  nest  at  their  own  sweet  will 
and  make  the  heavens  ring  with  music.  Do  you  not 
say  so,  little  Robin  Red-Breast?  No,  you  say  nothing 
about  it.  You  only  hop  over  the  wakening  buds  and 


548     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

the  greening  bank,  and  sing  "  like  mad,"  because  you 
and  your  wee  wife  have  no  prudential  reasons,  and  no 
inherited  evils,  but  just  live  and  love  in  blameless 
unconsciousness  —  and  when  we  get  to  that  it  will  be 
a  happy  day  for  us. 

If  I  can  think  of  it  I  am  going  to  seal  this  letter 
with  my  new  ring.  I  was  out  gardening  this  morning. 
I  should  lie  glad  to  be  out-doors,  if  it  were  only  to 
pick  up  stones,  and  there  is  plenty  of  that  to  do  on 
our  farm.  I  wish  you  would  come  down  and  see  how 
lovely  Hamilton  is  in  warm  weather.  There  is  noth 
ing  under  Heaven  like  this  thrilling,  glorious,  warm 
sunshine.  My  honeysuckle  is  all  budding  out,  and  I 
think  the  two  little  elm  trees  that  were  set  out  last 
fall  are  in  the  same  predicament. 

Yours  respectfully. 

APRIL  18. 

You  speak  of  the  diversity  of  tastes  that  come  with 
difference  of  years.  Very  true,  and  if  that  diversity 
exists  it  just  keeps  the  two  people  apart.  Theydon'i 
think  of  falling  in  love  with  each  other.  If  they  do 
fall  in  love  it  shows  simply  that  the  resemblance,  or 
rather  the  —  the  —  relation,  that  exists  between  them 
is  deeper,  more  essential  than  any  outward  circum 
stance  can  mar.  That  is  all  there  is  about  it,  and  if 
you  go  and  say  anything  more  it  will  be  irrelevant 
and  probably  irreverent.  Then  you  say  men  don't 
fall  in  love  with  men,  nor  women  with  women.  Beg 
ging  your  pardon,  they  do,  not  very  often,  I  fear,  but 
if  you  had  read  your  Bible  a  little  more  I  think  you 
would  have  known  that  Jonathan's  love  to  David  was 
great,  passing  the  love  of  women. 

It  does  not  require  a  great  deal  of  sagacity  in  your 


BUSY   YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  549 

Excellency  to  discover  that  I  do  not  think  the  love 
between  married  people  is  heavenly  and  purely  spirit 
ual  when  I  have  thundered  from  the  house-tops  these 
dozen  years  that  it  is  too  often,  indeed  shamefully 
often,  of  the  earth,  earthy.  But  pray,  you,  do  not 
deny  the  possibility,  and  occasionally  the  existence, 
and  sometimes  the  proper  preponderance  of  the 
heavenly  element. 

Nor  is  it  Providence  at  all,  but  President,  who  has 
mixed  up  things  (with  some  personal  malice,  con 
cerning  which  I  shall  maintain  a  dignified  silence),  in 
putting  children  into  the  hands  of  "  two  foolish  young 
creatures,"  instead  of  "  sensible,  considerate  spinsters, 
who  know  how  to  take  care  of  them."  Providence 
originally  made  perfect  arrangements,  but  presidents 
and  judges  and  others  have  so  spoiled  their  part  of 
the  play  that  the  whole  is  in  danger  of  failure.  But 
the  remedy  is  to  carry  out  the  designs  of  Providence, 
not  to  bring  in  any  new  ones  of  our  own.  I  should 
think  any  one  who  had  been  familiar  with  police 
courts  or  with  the  world  at  large  would  feel  that  the 
"  mother's  inspiration,"  or  the  father's,  or  somebody's, 
is  very  much  at  fault,  or  stands  very  much  in  need  of 
outside  assistance.  At  any  rate,  it  would  seem  diffi 
cult  to  pronounce  one's  self,  on  the  whole,  quite  satis 
fied  with  results  ;  and  till  results  are  most  satisfactory, 
the  world  must  submit  to  see  spinsters,  considerate  or 
otherwise,  dinging  at  processes. 

Your  chronological  argument  is  beyond  praise. 
Seeing  life  is  so  short  in  this  world  and  so  long  here 
after,  is  it  any  matter  whether  children  are  educated  or 
not,  or  taken  care  of  or  not,  here?  I  will  endeavor 
to  answer  you  with  patience.  If  by  leaving  the  chil 
dren  uneducated  and  to  themselves  we  simply  de- 


550    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

layed  their  development,  if  they  would  thus  remain 
in  every  respect  babies,  in  short,  if  it  were  merely  a 
question  of  time,  the  case  would  be  a  plausible  one ; 
but  when  you  reflect  that  no  such  thing  is  possible  — 
that  no  education  is  mis-education — you  will  see 
that  the  eternity  of  life,  so  far  from  being  a  ground 
for  neglect,  is  the  strongest  reason  for  unceasing 
vigilance.  As  the  soul  is  to  grow  on  forever,  is  it 
not  of  the  first  importance  that  it  should  start  sym 
metrical?  Mere  intellectual  information  or  mere 
happiness  is  of  second  consequence, — there  will  be 
time  enough  for  them  by  and  by,  —  but  character  must 
be  seen  to  now.  There  is  not  a  moment  to  spare. 
The  president  of  an  agricultural  college  needs  not  to 
be  reminded  of  the  character  stamped  upon  a  tree  by 
the  first  few  years,  perhaps  months,  perhaps  weeks  of 
its  existence. 

As  for  infants  being  foredoomed  to  wrath,  I  be 
lieve  we  are  all  foredoomed  to  logical  sequences; 
that  men  do  not  gather  grapes  of  thorns  or  figs  of 
thistles  in  this  world  or  any  other.  And  now  I  am 
going  over  the  hills  and  faraway  to  "  the  house  where 
I  was  born,  the  little  window  where  the  sun  came 
peeping  in  at  morn.  He  never  came  a  wink  too  soon 
nor  brought  too  long  a  day.  Yet  never  have  I  wished 
the  night  had  borne  my  breath  away."  I  also  am  going 
to  a  sugar  party  —  that  is,  we  are  going  to  send  our 
jug  to  New  Hampshire  for  syrup. 

What  injunction  do  you  want  off  your  college,  and 
what  do  you  expect  me  to  do  about  it  ?  Tell  you  how 
sorry  I  am,  and  then  get  laughed  at  for  my  pains? 
and  good  enough  for  me.  The  fact  is,  people  can 
help  one  another  in  gardening  and  cooking  and  dress 
making  ;  but  when  it  comes  to  trouble  you  must  bear 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  551 

it  yourself.  What  another  person  can  help  you  there, 
is  not  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  It  is  fearful  some 
times  when  one  has  a  revelation  in  a  flash  of  one's 
isolation,  but  generally  we  think  of  nothing  but  our 
gregariousness. 

I  have  been  and  got  back  again  —  a  charming 
walk.  Winter  went  away  suddenly  after  noon,  and 
summer  came  warm  and  welcome.  If  you  had  been 
with  me  on  the  bright  hill-sides  I  do  not  think  even 
that  could  have  disturbed  my  enjoyment.  I  thought 
of  you  down  by  the  brook,  and  wished  I  could  show 
you  the  clear  water  flowing  over  golden  pebbles.  No 
Pactolus  could  be  more  beautiful.  Oh  !  it  is  glorious 
to-day.  It  was  perfect  delight  out  on  the  hills  all 
alone  ;  no  road,  nor  house,  nor  anything  in  sight;  all 
the  life  behind  me  and  nil  heaven  before.  How  inex 
plicable,  mysterious,  can't-givc-a-reason-for-it-ous,  is 
joy  —  and  sorrow,  too  —  one's  moods. 

APRIL  28. 

That  little  picture  is  just  one  of  the  darlingest  little 
things  I  ever  saw  in  my  life,  and  I  have  a  great  mind 
not  to  soud  it  back.  It  is  a  frolicsome  little  rogue ; 
one  to  be  hugged  and  kissed  and  played  with  into  a 
frenzy  of  fun.  Ask  Dan  if  he  is  not  sorry  he  had  to 
grow  up,  for  he  cannot  ever  be  so  nice  again  as  he 
was  then ;  not  but  that  he  is  very  nice  now,  but  never 
a  sweet  little  morsel  That  is  how  I  like  Dan  — 
small  and  cunning  and  unconscious  and  eager.  And 
here  is  a  good  place  for  a  short  sermon  to  come  in, 
and  this  is  the  text : 

"  The  Lord  puts  the  character  of  the  tree  into  the 
inmost  heart  of  the  seed,  and  no  care  and  no  neglect 
can  change  it  forever,"  and  so  forth.  We  learn  from 


552     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

our  text,  first,  that  no  education,  no  genius  ever  will 
insure  a  man  against  error  egregious  and  dreadful 
muddle.  For  here  we  have  a  president  of  an  agricult 
ural  college  telling  wicked  stories  about  the  good 
Lord  as  fast  as  he  can  run  a  pen,  and  giving  the  lie 
to  all  agricultural  dogmas  besides.  For  we  all  know 
that  care  and  neglect  do  change  the  character  of  trees 
and  men,  though  they  do  not  change  their  nature. 
An  apple-tree  that  has  been  well  cultivated  has  a  very 
different  character  from  one  that  has  been  neglected, 
though  it  is  still  an  apple-tree  ;  and  President  French 
is  requested  to  present  himself  for  admittance  to  the 
infant  class  of  some  primary  agricultural  school  to 
learn  the  rudiments  of  the  science. 

No,  I  do  not  care  about  fishing,  though  1  have  no 
objection  to  catching  sardines  from  a  tin  box  in  a  sea 
of  oil,  and  I  like  broiled  mackerel, —  something 
tender,  and  salty,  and  buttery,  and  nice, —  but  I  don't 
like  to  see  fishes  wriggle  with  a  hook  in  their  tongue. 

Here  is  a  suggestive  little  juxtaposition  in  a  letter 
I  received  from  a  distinguished  friend  lately :  "  Come 
down  and  help  us  begin  life  anew.  I  am  going  to 
keep  account  of  the  expense  of  feeding  people."  And 
I  suppose  you  think  I  am  a  good  one.  Thank  you  ; 
well,  I  am.  I  am  healthy  and  hearty,  should  have 
shocked  Lord  Byron,  and  would  have  done  it  with  a 
good  will  for  his  silly  conceit. 

I  was  not  born  in  any  house  you  ever  saw,  so  they 
say.  Some  day  in  sunshiny  weather,  when  you 
happen  to  be  down  here,  I  will  take  you  across  the 
fields  to  the  places  where  I  grew  in  sun  and  shade.  I 
wish  you  would  stop  talking  about  love  and  women, 
and  things  you  don't  know  anything  about.  There 
are  colleges  and  farms,  and  books,  and  plenty  of  sub- 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  553 

objects  for  intelligent  and  useful  conversation  without 
running  your  head  against  a  stone  wall.  I  never  did 
see  a  man  who  combined  such  extremes  of  wisdom 
and  absolute  dead-set,  wilful  stone-blindness.  There  ! 
I  wonder  if  I  had  better  cut  off  the  head  of  my 
Siberian  honeysuckle.  I  bought  a  jack  knife  for  the 
purpose  the  other  day,  but  as  I  stand  meditating  over 
it  my  heart  misgives  me.  I  should  like  to  live  on  a 
great  farm  which  had  a  splendid  farmer  at  the  head 
of  it,  aud  plent}'  of  men  for  the  body  of  it,  and  women 
that  were  cunning  in  butter  and  cheese,  with  nothing 
to  do  but  to  go  from  pillar  to  post  and  see  things 
grow,  and  watch  the  chickens  and  goslings  and  birds 
and  other  little  ducks.  That  is  my  world.  You  see 
how  near  I  come  to  it.  But  one  never  can  be  thankful 
enough  that  one  is  well,  and  comfortable  in  mind, 
body,  estate,  and  friends.  So  when  I  say  what  I  like, 
you  understand  I  am  not  fretting  about  what  I  may 
happen  not  to  like  in  all  its  ramifications.  It  would 
be  very  wicked  and  unnecessary.  When  I  compare 
my  situation  with  that  of  most  others,  I  am  afraid  to 
think  a  thought  of  even  fretting  because  laborers  are 
deceitful,  which  is,  I  believe,  my  chief  trouble  nowa 
days.  But  then,  you  see,  I  am  prompt  myself,  and 
it  shatters  my  patience  sadly  to  have  people  promise 
to  come  in  a  week  and  not  come  for  a  fortnight.  And 
people  that  belong  to  the  church,  too !  !  Do  you  not 
like  to  have  nothing  to  do,  not  permanently,  of  course, 
but  just  for  a  little  while,  in  spring,  say,  nothing  in 
particular  only  stroll  about  and  soak  in  the  warm,  lazy 
air? 


554     GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

MAY  17,  18G6. 

Enjoy  life  as  it  goes,  let  the  crickets  sing  under 
your  hearth  and  the  mice  nibble  upon  it,  write  joyfully 
on  your  ancient  desk,  —  we  have  just  such  a  one  in 
our  kitchen,  —  sniff  the  scent  of  the  apple-blossoms, 
and  be  at  peace.  I  wanted  much  to  hear  Mr.  Duraut 
when  I  was  in  Boston,  but  I  think  he  was  not  there. 
I  have  great  hopes  of  him.  I  heard  Mr.  E.  I  do 
not  like  him  —  I  do  not  believe  in  E-dom.  I  do  not 
impugn  his  motives  or  his  character.  If  he  would  be 
a  good,  quiet  man  and  come  down  to  Hamilton  and 
carry  on  a  farm,  or  work  in  a  shoe-shop,  and  go  to 
prayer-meetings  he  would  doubtless  be  of  use  in  the 
world,  and  a  valuable  accession  to  society,  but 
preached  up  in  Dr.  Kirk's  pulpit  and  printed  up  in  the 
"  Congregationalist,"  and  put  forward  in  all  the 
churches,  I  consider  him  an  evil  thing  under  the  sun. 
That  is  my  impression  from  one  half  day's  experience 
of  him,  and  how  ever  is  the  world  going  to  be  re 
deemed,  will  you  tell  me  that?  I  wanted  to  find  out 
something  about  the  revival  and  I  went  to  one  of  the 
Park-street  prayer-meetings.  It  was  held  in  a  cellar, 
for  one  thing,  and  it  was  dark  and  dingy  and  dismal 
—  out  of  the  bright,  warm,  sunny,  living  street  into  the 
gloom,  it  struck  me  with  a  chill.  Nobody  was  there, 
after  awhile  people  strayed  in  by  ones  and  twos,  all 
women  to  a  man  (  !),  old  and  wrinkled  and  ugly  and 
desolate  looking.  Now,  I  don't  object  to  these 
women  that  they  were  old  and  ugly.  On  the  contrary, 
I  have  great  admiration  for  such,  self-conceit  being 
my  great  weakness  —  and  if  they,  being  desolate  and 
forlorn,  can  find  comfort  in  prayer-meeting  it  is  as 
good  a  result  as  prayer-meetings  can  show.  Well, 
after  awhile,  a  few  persons  came  in  who  seemed  to  be 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  555 

still  living,  —  to  have  part  and  lot  in  the  present  world, 
—  men  and  women.  And  the  singing  and  praying 
went  on  without  lagging,  but  without  enthusiasm, 
without  manifest  hearty  delight  and  unconquerable 
purpose.  And  if  this  is  a  revival  prayer-meeting, 
what  is  a  prayer-meeting  without  revival,  and  if  this 
is  Boston  in  a  religious  excitement,  what  is  Boston 
when  she  is  dead  in  trespasses,  in  sins?  And  if  re 
ligion  is  not  for  the  young  and  gay  and  happy  and 
fashionable  and  learned  and  aesthetic,  go  to ! 

I  went  to  Boston  to  see  some  friends  sail  for 
Europe,  and  on  the  clean  deck  of  the  steamer,  with 
sky  and  sea  so  blue,  so  calm,  a  voyage  to  Europe 
seemed  no  more  than  a  river-sail,  and  the  old  longing 
held  me  one  breathless  moment.  If  I  should  outlive 
rny  mother  I  may  go  to  Europe,  for  my  life  then  will 
have  no  special  value,  and  if  the  sea  swallows  me  up, 
I  shall  hardly  be  missed.  Yet  I  think  I  could  scarcely 
bring  myself  to  go  unaccompanied  by  some  one  whose 
business  was  to  look  out  for  me  in  case  of  shipwreck. 
I  am  not  afraid  to  live  alone,  and  we  must  die  alone, 
whether  or  no.  but  I  should  not  like  to  drown  alone. 
I  should  not  like  to  plunge  down  alone  into  the  horror 
of  waters,  but  with  some  friend  who  would  hold  me 
all  tight,  and  hide  my  face,  it  seems  less  terrible. 

My  mother  desires  her  regards  and  begs  }TOU  to  send 
her  two  of  your  turkeys'  eggs.  You  will  have  five 
left  then,  and  can  afford  to  be  generous.  She  has 
been  in  vain  pursuit  of  turkeys'  eggs  all  the  spring. 
The  turkeys  hereabouts  have  struck  and  lay  no  more* 
If  you  prefer  not  to  send  the  eggs  you  may  send  two 
turkeys  at  Thanksgiving,  which  will  answer  every  pur 
pose,  and  will  do  thus  far  more  service  to  humanity 
than  by  pointing  such  false  and  flippant  morals  as 


556     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

mar  the  beauty  of  your  last  letter,  the  only  reply  to 
which  may  be  found  in  the  second  person-al  pronoun 
governing  an  intransitive  verb,  which  in  one  sense 
means  to  be  in  a  recumbent  position  —  which  sense  I 
do  not  employ  in  this  case. 

My  garden  is  dreadfully  dry  and  stony,  llain  is 
going  out  of  fashion.  If  the  soil  equalled  my  soul 
I  should  crown  you  with  flowers.  As  it  is,  exercise 
is  my  largest  crop.  But  the  country  is  rich  with 
beauty.  I  look  out  every  day  with  surprise.  The 
apple-trees  are  beyond  measure  beautiful  and  deli 
cious,  one  huge  cluster  of  sweet-scented  flowers,  and 
not  many  caterpillers !  and  how  the  earth  contrives 
to  be  so  lovely  and  insouciant  under  the  frame  of  the 
brazen  skies  I  cannot  divine. 

I  am  attending  Professor  Blot's  lessons  in  Salem. 
They  are  very  nice,  I  think,  but  I  get  so  tired  seeing 
so  many  people,  and  getting  in  and  out  of  cars  every 
day.  I  am  dreadfully  tired  of  people.  People  are 
made  up  chiefly  of  eyes.  When  people  go  to  Am- 
herst  do  the  Amherst  people  look  at  them  ?  If  you 
go  into  church  will  they  loiter  round  the  door  till  you 
come  out?  When  you  go  into  a  shop  will  you  see 
the  clerks  nudge  each  other,  and  you  try  to  look  un 
conscious  and  make  a  sorry  failure  of  it?  And  will 
you  please  to  tell  me  on  what  general  principle  the 
Universe  is  hung  together,  in  such  a  way  that  a  little 
notoriety  brings  you  all  the  disagreeablenesses  of  a 
great  fame?  Why  should  their  mortal  life  be  teased 
who  will  have  no  compensations  of  immortality  ? 

I  would  not  have  the  steeple.  P.  will  wrest  it 
from  you  and  turn  your  Agricultural  College  into  a 
Unitarian  meeting-house.  That  is  the  way  they  did 
with  our  Orthodox  churches  in  my  young  days,  carried 


BUSY   YEARS   TN   HAMILTON  557 

off  the  plate  and  the  books  and  all  the  church  prop 
erty,  and  made  it  over  into  a  Unitarian  society,  but 
they  left  us  the  truth,  whereof  we  are  glad. 

[To  A  SISTER-IN-LAW.] 

JUNE  6,  1866. 

Mother  is  given  up  to  millinery  and  reading  novels. 
First  she  "  did  up  "  a  cap  — washed  it  and  made  it 
over.  It  has  puffs  in  front  and  lapels  behind,  and 
gimp  on  top,  and  blue  ribbon  for  strings.  Novels 
she  gets  up  mornings  and  sits  up  nights  to  read,  and 
I  expect  she'll  be  clamoring  to  go  to  a  theatre  before 
long.  I  walked  over  to  Ipswich  and  back  this  morn 
ing, —  started  at  six,  got  there  at  half-past  seven. 
Went  to  see  about  getting  a  teacher  for  Mr.  Curtis 
who  is  always  in  a  teacher-phobia.  I  did  not  intend 
to  walk  back,  but  it  was  so  pleasant  that  I  con 
cluded  I  would.  A  pair  of  men  met  me  just  as  I 
was  out  of  the  woods,  and  one  of  them  stepped  up 
to  me  and  said  "  Miss,  would  you  accept  a  little 
robin?  "  I  asked  him  why  he  did  not  let  it  go,  and 
he  said  it  was  too  young  to  fly.  I  took  it  and  carried 
it  a  little  way,  but  concluded  that  Nature  would 
know  better  how  to  take  care  of  her  robin  than  I, 
so  I  let  him  go  and  he  hopped  off.  Yesterday  Cap 
tain  Waters  from  Cherry  Hill  Farm  and  his  niece 
came  up  to  see  me. 

Last  Sunday  afternoon  Rev.  Mr.  Sewell's  little 
girl,  who  had  been  left  at  home  iu  charge  of  her  aunt, 
ran  away  while  her  aunt  was  asleep,  went  over  to  the 
church  and  walked  in.  Her  aunt  awoke,  missed  her, 
ran  after  her,  and  got  up  just  in  season  to  miss  hold 
of  her  dress  as  she  marched  in  at  the  church  door. 
She  had  on  an  old  sack  and  a  big  old  Shaker  bonnet. 


558     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

Her  father  saw  her  the  moment  she  came  in,  arid 
watched  her  as  she  slowly  passed  up  the  aisle,  looking 
in  at  each  of  the  pews,  and  when  she  got  to  his  he 
beckoned  to  his  father-in-law,  just  pausing  a  moment 
in  the  sermon,  and  Miss  was  taken  in  and  cared  for. 
They  said  Mr.  Benson  quite  shook  with  laughing,  and 
a  smile  went  through  the  church. 

You  talk  about  driving  with  baby,  and  your  mother- 
in-law  used  to  drive  to  Ipswich  and  back  in  a  chaise 
with  a  baby  on  each  side  of  her  and  one  in  her  arms  ! 

JUNE  28,  1866. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  WOOD  :  Your  letter  came  this  morn 
ing,  and  I  hasten  to  say  that  we  have  about  concluded 
not  to  go  anywhere  this  summer,  but  to  try  the  novelty 
of  staying  at  home.  We  have  not  been  at  home  all 
summer  in  many  years.  But  the  main  point  is  that 
we  are  thinking  it  possible  we  may  take  a  journey  to 
Minnesota  in  the  fall  to  visit  my  brother,  and,  if  so, 
we  don't  care  to  tire  ourselves  with  jaunting  in  the 
summer. 

I  hardly  know  whether  I  had  better  tell  you  that  I 
have  been  attending  Professor  Blot's  coiirse  in  Salem. 
You  will  be  expecting  me  to  spend  my  time  and 
strength  in  cooking  you  up  all  manner  of  savory 
messes,  which,  no  indeed,  I  shall  not  do !  I  only 
wanted  the  theory.  I  had  no  intention  of  practice. 
I  go  for  a  division  of  labor  as  a  fundamental  princi 
ple  of  domestic  as  well  as  political  economy.  He 
told  us  how  to  make  French  rolls,  but  encouraged  us 
at  the  same  time  by  assuring  us  that  it  was  erne-pos 
sible  to  make  them  as  good  as  they  were  in  France  ! 
However,  the  lectures  were  very  valuable  and  very 
interesting,  and  I  am  glad  I  went. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  559 

I  have  seen  very  few  notices  of  "  Summer  Rest.'' 
The  righteous  soul  of  the  ' '  New  York  Herald "  is 
vexed,  and  advises  that  the  book  should  not  be  read 
by  very  young  persons,  lest  it  should  unsettle  their 
religious  belief.  So  if  you  are  not  well-rooted  and 
grounded  in  baptism  you  better  stop  where  you  are  ! 
The  book's  private  circle  seems  to  be  unusually  well 
satisfied.  I  should  have  been  very  glad  to  hear  what 
you  have  to  say  about  it,  and  you  know  letters  never 
tire  one  unless  I  have  to  write  them !  But  I  do  not 
want  you  to  exert  yourself  to  do  either  the  one  or 
the  other  for  my  sake,  during  this  hot  weather.  It 
seems  to  me  that  it  takes  so  little  to  make  one  ill 
when  the  weather  already  makes  one  languid. 

There  are  a  few  things  I  should  like  to  do,  but  I 
don't  see  the  way  clear  to  them ;  and,  after  all,  it 
does  not  make  much  difference  how  things  go  in  this 
world.  Nothing  has  an  end  here.  It  is  only  to  grow 
good,  and  if  you  do  that  it  matters  little  what  the 
means  are.  Don't  you  know  that,  Mr.  Treasurer? 

JULY  7. 

I  went  to  see  Whittier  yesterday.  I  carried  him 
over  some  oranges  and  cherries  all  heaped  together, 
and  flowers  stuck  all  over  them,  and  honeysuckle 
wreathed  around  them,  —  real  pretty, — because  he 
is  sick.  By  and  by  I  said,  "How  could  you  seem 
so  glad  to  see  me  when  you  have  such  a  headache 
all  the  time?  I  don't  believe  you  were.  Tell  me  now 
your  first  feeling  when  you  knew  I  had  come.  Re 
member  all  those  cherries  and  oranges  I  brought 
you.'  Were  you  glad  or  sorry?"  "  Oh  !  "  said  he, 
"  I  did  not  see  the  oranges  till  after  I  had  seen  you. 
If  I  had  seen  them  first  it  might  have  made  a  differ- 


560     GAIL   HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

ence."  I  suspect  the  religious  newspapers  have 
learned  wisdom,  and  will  crush  me  with  a  masterly 
inactivity.  They  state  a  general  dissent,  but  they 
enter  into  no  particulars  of  any  sort  or  kind ;  and  if 
"  S.  R."  dies  prematurely  I  shall  surely  inscribe  on  its 
tombstone,  "  Died  for  lack  of  abuse." 

Our  young  roosters  have  set  up  their  first  crow 
since  I  saw  you.  It  was  not  much  of  a  crow,  but 
my  loving  ears  recognized  it.  Do  you  suppose  now 
there  is  any  accession  to  his  dignity  among  his  race? 
Have  they  any  assumption  of  togas  —  any  power  of 
vote?  Will  the  hens  consult  him  in  any  difficult  case? 
Will  he  snub  the  young  chickens,  and  grow  polite  to 
the  pullets,  and  screw  his  neck  around  to  see  if  his 
tail  feathers  are  growing  well?  You  don't  know 
anything  about  it.  How  many  worlds  there  are,  and 
we  enter  into  none !  Did  I  tell  you  I  set  out  two  elm 
trees  last  fall  ?  They  are  both  alive.  I  suppose  the 
buttercups  and  dandelions  that  have  rotated  into 
children  will  be  playing  under  them  a  hundred  years 
hence ;  and  some  one,  more  thoughtful  than  the  rest, 
will  tell  them  that  his  mother  told  him  that  an  old 
Miss  Dodge  set  out  those  two  trees.  His  grand 
mother's  grandmother  told  her  grand-daughter,  he 
believed,  and  I  shall  not  be  any  more  alive  to  them 
than  a  mummy,  and  here  I  am  just  as  alive  as  can 
be,  as  alive  as  ever  you  will  be,  you  saucy  young 
rascals  in  posse.  An  old  Miss  Dodge  indeed  ! 

As  for  flies,  I  like  them.  I  think  a  fly  is  real  good 
company.  I  spent  a  good  part  of  one  rainy  Sunday 
afternoon  watching  them.  How  do  you  suppose  life 
presents  itself  to  a  fly?  When  they  get  too  numerous 
for  comfort  we  just  buy  a  little  poison  paper,  and 
death  comes  to  them  with  no  dread  or  fright,  only  as 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  561 

a  fragrant  and  luring  feast,  —  a  sweet  intoxication. 
Oh  !  I  wouldn't  give  up  the  flies  for  anything. 

My  garden  is  blooming.  I  have  planted  it  with 
corn.  There  is  one  tomato  vine  —  has  five  apples. 
I  shall  turn  it  over  to  portulaccas  another  year.  "We 
have  three  times  as  many  pears  as  we  had  last  year. 
Last  year  we  had  one.  I  have  been  reading  Bristed's 
"Five  Years  in  an  English  University."  How  he 
does  take  the  conceit  out  of  our  American  colleges ! 
Do  you  know  anything  of  the  man  himself?  I  like 
Thackeray.  I  know  his  men  all  drink  and  smoke, 
and  some  of  his  women  are  fearfully  weak,  though 
he  has,  perhaps  —  There,  I  won't  finish  that.  There 
is  no  use  in  saying  a  little  about  anything  when  the 
little  speaks  with  an  uncertain  sound.  If  one  could 
have  a  multum  in  parvo  it  would  be  worth  while. 
Mr.  D.  is  in  doleful  dumps  about  me,  so  it  is  quite 
sad  to  see.  Still  he  offers  beets  and  green  peas  as 
usual,  with  unflinching  kindness,  which  I  accept  with 
undiminished  appetite.  Strange  to  see  how  one  can 
be  such  a  heretic,  and  yet  so  robust. 

JULY  31,  1866. 

All  that  is  best  in  all  that  I  look  for.  If  I  attain 
Heaven  at  all  I  count  confidently  on  finding  there  all 
that  I  love  here ;  not  for  any  valid  reason,  perhaps, 
but  none  the  less  for  that.  I  am  so  sure  that  God 
will  keep  his  promise,  not  in  the  letter  merely,  but  in 
the  spirit.  How  confident  was  Paul !  I  like  to  read 
him  sometimes  just  to  revive  my  faith  in  the  future, 
just  to  share  his  certainty ;  such  things,  I  think,  you 
sometimes  get  by  mere  contact,  sympathy.  Anyway, 
nothing  is  worse  than  to  pretend  to  a  belie'f  which  you 
do  not  possess,  and  nothing  else  is  [torn]  than  to 


562    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

think  you  believe  what  you  do  not  know  you  do  not 
believe.  But  this  at  least  is  sure,  to  do  one's  best  in 
this  world  is  the  best  for  all  worlds.  Hope  in  the 
future  is  for  comfort,  not  for  life.  Do  you  remem 
ber  saying  something  about  a  paternal  feeling  ?  I  did 
not  think  of  the  absurdity  of  it  at  the  time.  No,  I 
don't  feel  so,  however  you  do.  I  consider  myself  as 
your  equal,  thank  you,  sir !  I  am  as  old  as  I  ever 
shall  be.  After  thirty  I  don't  think  years  make  much 
difference.  I  mean  that  one  has  attained  a  certain 
stage  of  maturity,  and  though  one  keeps  on  and  on, 
of  course,  yet  the  type  of  his  character  does  not  change. 
The  range  of  my  tastes  is,  I  suppose,  as  definitely 
formed  and  outlined  as  yours,  and  I  never  think  of 
there  being  any  disparity  of  years  between  us. 

Remember,  when  I  talk  I  am  talking  from  myself 
only,  that  is,  in  the  abstract.  I  don't  judge  for,  or 
of,  any  one  else.  What  another  has  done  may  have 
been  the  best  thing,  taking  everything  into  the 
account,  but  I,  abstractly  thinking,  may  reckon  it 
not  the  best  thing. 

All  that  is  necessary,  however,  at  present,  is  that 
you  believe.  I  would  on  no  account  say  or  do  any 
thing  that  would  give  you  a  moment's  pain  or  even 
discomfort  or  uneasiness  or  any  sort  of  annoyance, 
and  that  I  am,  I  believe,  without  malice,  without 
hypocrisy,  without  guile, 

Most  truly, 

YOUR  FRIEND. 

Is  this  an  intelligible  letter  —  from  dim  recollection, 
I  should  say  —  or  not  ?  In  the  first  place,  it  is  diffi 
cult  to  talk'  about  things  without  mentioning  them  5 
and  lastly,  and  finally,  it  is  written  with  a  galloping 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  563 

pen  against  time.     What  does  that  mean?     I  don't 
know.     What  do  yon  think  of  the  Atlantic  cable? 

SATURDAY  NIGHT,  NEAR  TEN  O'CLOCK. 

HAMILTON,   Aug.   11,   1866. 

DEAR  FRIEND  :  Both  your  letters  were  very  pleas 
ant  to  me,  and  they  came  to  me  when  I  had  much 
need  of  pleasant  things.  My  mother  was  taken  very 
suddenly  ill  with  paralysis,  and  for  a  time  this  house 
looked  to  me  very  desolate,  and  I  seemed  to  see  be 
fore  me  a  freedom  that  was  dreary,  but  at  present  — 
the  sixth  day  —  it  looks  more  as  if  her  life  might  still 
be  spared  for  comfort  and  enjoyment,  if  not  for  any 
active  occupation. 

I  wanted  to  say  to  you  that  I  was  not  harsh,  as 
indeed  I  had  no  right  to  be,  for  he  is  the  most  gener 
ous  of  men.  He  is  a  real  good,  honorable  man,  but 
it  is  a  sad  waste  of  material  for  anybody  to  fall  in 
love  with  me.  But  it  is  all  over  now,  and  nobody 
hurt.  It  is  a  remarkable  proof  of  the  deceitfulness 
of  the  human  heart  that,  after  all,  I  believe  I  am  not 
so  much  concerned  lest  I  have  done  an  unhandsome 
thing  as  I  am  that  you  should  think  I  have  done  so. 
Quite  a  difference,  you  perceive,  —  as  great  as 
between  conscience  and  —  vanity? 

You  talk  about  being  satisfied  with  an  indefinite 
theory.  I  am  not  satisfied  with  that,  but  with  the 
fact.  I  only  amuse  myself  with  the  theory.  Given, 
by  revelation,  the  fact  of  future  life,  and  you  may  well 
enough  imagine  it  what  you  like,  with  the  pleasant  con 
sciousness  that  the  utmost  stretch  and  range  of  your 
imagination  must  fall  within  the  scope  of  the  reality. 
Is  it  not  so?  If  the  Bible  is  true  we  certainly  have 
the  existence  and  the  perfect  satisfaction  of  another 


564     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

life.  If  the  Bible  is  not  true  one  thing  is  as  likely 
to  happen  as  another,  so  I  am  not  far  wrong  either 
way.  I  think  sometimes  that,  looked  at  in  the  light 
of  reason,  friendship  is  not  much  of  an  institution 
after  all.  It  extends  the  sphere  of  your  sorrow. 
You  assume  the  troubles  of  another  in  addition  to 
your  own.  What  have  I  gained  by  knowing  you?  A 
whole  new  circle  of  anxiety.  Will's  health,  another's 
something,  the  constant  battling  and  bother  of  this 
new  college,  with  the  consciousness  of  not  being  able 
to  lift  a  finger  to  amend  anything,  only  stand  by  and 
see  the  things  going  on,  and  grind  my  teeth  a  little 
metaphysically.  Well,  then,  do  I  wish  I  had  never 
known  you  ?  Oh,  go  to,  you  little  goosey  !  Is  reason 
all  the  will  that  moves  us  puppets?  Aren't  there 
strings  twitching  us  every  which  way?  I  have  with 
all  your  baffliugs  and  buffetings  a  pleasant  picture  of 
you  in  your  inner  home, — with  all  your  good  children, 
—  how  supremely  happy  you  are  in  that,  with  the 
royal  Lord  Pam.,who  not  only  appreciates  you,  which 
women  often  do,  but  whom  you  appreciate,  which  men 
seldom  do,  but  which  you  do  simply  because  you  are 
yourself,  because  you  see  things  where  men  usually 
see  nothing,  or  rather  something  else.  A  man  may 
stand  manfully  the  brunt  of  a  hundred  battles  and 
make  no  outcry,  only  ride  gayly  through  it  all.  Shall 
I  therefore  see  only  his  gay  bearing  and  not  the  human 
heart  under  his  armor,  —  his  blue  coat,  —  to  speak 
modernly?  What  am  I  made  human  for  but  to  in 
terpret  him? 

SEPTEMBER  7. 

Mother    continues  comfortable,    goes  downstairs, 
sits  up  all  day,  was  out  in  the  garden  to-day,  eats 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  505 

heartily,  and  seems  improving.  We  have  about  de 
cided  to  attempt  the  journey,  and  now  intend  to  leave 
the  last  of  next  week,  trying  if  possible  to  be  at  Niag 
ara  over  Sunday. 

Whittier  says  in  his  letter,  "  If  I  were  going  to 
leave  New  England  I  should  go  to  Minnesota.  I 
wish  I  was  there  now,  and  Amesbury  was  there,  and 
Boston  and  Hamilton,  and  all  the  good  folks  I  love. 
When  thee  gets  back  again  I  hope  thee  will  come  up 
and  make  a  visit,  and  tell  me  all  about  thy  sight 
seeing  and  adventures.  Thee  knows  how  glad  I  shall 
be  to  welcome  thee  to  my  fireside  —  provided  thee 
doesn't  touch  the  brasses !  " 

HASTINGS,  MINN.,  October  6,  1866. 
DEAR  FUIEXD  :  I  wanted  to  answer  your  letters  right 
away,  but  there  is  so  little  quiet  time,  though  if  time 
were  ever  quiet  one  would  suppose  it  would  be  on  the 
boundless  prairies.  But  all  is  so  new.  I  know  now 
what  the  Cincinnati  people  told  me  years  ago  that  that 
was  not  the  West.  This  is  the  West,  this  broad  lift  of 
field  and  meadow  shoreless  as  the  sea  (which  is  not 
shoreless  at  all,  by  the  way).  We  have  just  got  home 
from  a  trip  to  St.  Paul,  Minneapolis,  beautiful  cities 
set  on  the  bold  bluffs  of  the  Mississippi.  Minnehaha 
Falls,  the  most  delicate  and  dainty  in  the  Avorld.  I 
went  behind  them  and  then  to  their  foot,  and  their 
daintiness  changed  into  a  fierce  northeast  rain  storm 
that  deluged  me  and  beatrny  breath  away.  And  there 
are  the  falls  of  St.  Anthony,  which  are  no  falls,  but 
rapids, —  most  fierce  and  practical,  too, —  and  we  went 
into  the  various  mills  that  his  Saintship  turns,  and  out 
to  Lake  Calhoun  with  its  mathematical  circle  and  its 
beaver  dam  and  its  oak  groves  which  we  contaminated 


566     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

or  consecrated  with  our  canned  peaches,  and  oysters, 
and  tongues  pickled  and  fresh,  and  further  still  to 
Fort  Suelliug,  once  the  outpost  of  civilization,  now 
its  centre,  one  may  say.  And  indeed  this  is  a  great 
country,  and  I  felt  great  enough  myself  rolling  in 
splendor  through  the  prairies  in  a  barouche  proffered 
us  by  a  Member  of  Congress,  and  so,  of  course,  rather 
statelier  than  any  common  carriage.  AVe  have  a  few 
more  excursions  to  make,  and  then  in  about  a  week 
we  turn  southward,  through  Cincinnati  and  Washing 
ton,  and  I  know  not  how  many  more  cities.  Perhaps 
I  shall  go  down  to  Tennessee  and  North  Carolina,  but 
I  think  not  now,  as  the  cholera  seems  to  abound  there. 
I  am  not  especially  afraid  of  it,  but  I  would  not  need 
lessly  run  any  risk.  l 

HAMILTON,  November  26,  186G. 
Well,  I  am  home  again  since  last  Tuesday,  and 
nobody  came  to  help  us  till  Thursday,  and  I  worked 
so  hard  that  I  got  lame  and  cross.  I  cared  for 
nobody.  I  was  not  fond  of  you  at  all.  That  is  the 
way  work  always  works  with  me,  makes  me  misan 
thropic  and  hard.  So  you  have  left  the  Agricultural 
College,  and  I  am  glad  of  it,  not  glad  for  your  lost 
plans,  but  it  was  by  no  fault  of  yours.  Only  it  seems 
to  me  you  will  have  a  more  independent  life  now. 
Anyway,  your  letter  was  grand.  I  had  not  time  to 
read  it,  so  I  just  stood  up  and  glanced  at  the  opening 
sentence  and  gradually  sank  into  a  chair  and  read  the 
whole,  the  water  cooling,  and  the  flies  enjoying  a  little 
longer  lease  of  life.  Poor  things  !  during  our  absence 
they  went  into  winter  quarters,  thinking  everything 
snug  and  comfortable,  and  then  our  coal  fires  deluded 

1  Narrative  of  this  journey  in  "  Wool  Gathering,"  published  in  1867. 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  567 

them  into  a  hope  of  summer,  and  out  they  came,  buz 
zing  sociably  and  rubbing  their  eyes  a  little,  and  then 
up  comes  the  poison  and  poisons  them,  every  one.  I 
only  hope  the  Legislature  will  be  stirred  up  about  the 
college. 

I  bought  a  farm  out  West.  Indeed  I  bought  —  my 
sister  and  I  —  a  house  and  barn  and  all  the  things,  so 
as  to  have  a  shelter  in  my  old  age,  you  know.  Still 
I  have  a  dollar  or  two  left,  and  I  will  share  it  with 
you  in  the  last  ditch,  so  don't  be  uneasy  about  money 
matters,  and  as  for  leisure,  how  could  your  idle  hands 
be  better  employed  than  in  writing  to  me  ? 

I  have  not  seen  Helen's  "  Ma  Hubbard,"  nor  any 
advertisement  of  it,  and  I  doubt  if  there  be  any  such 
book.  The  audacity  of  your  telling  me  it  is  three 
dollars  a  copy!  I  hope  it  will  sell  like  fury  (  !)  and 
wake  up  Mr.  Ticknor  to  the  fact  that  he  has  stories 
of  hers  buried  in  his  garden.  This  is  such  a  wicked 
world  that  there  is  nothing  like  a  little  success  to 
make  people  appreciate  you.  My  sister's  health  is 
much  improved,  thank  you,  as  how  could  it  fail  to  be 
when  we  have  lived  out-doors  these  two  mouths? 

Sometime  I  am  going  to  find  out  what  Mrs. 

thinks  of  you.  Just  now  she  is  buried  deep  full  many  a 
fathom  under  Thanksgiving  pies,  and  I  am  reminded 
anew  of  what  a  worthless  worm  am  I.  My  Judge,  I 
never  made  a  pie  in  my  life.  Nor  a  shirt.  Nor  a 
loaf  of  cake.  Nor  a  pudding,  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge  and  belief.  In  fact,  the  list  of  things  that 
I  never  did,  and  never  want  to,  is  sublime  in  its  in 
finity. 

Some  day  I  shall  run  in  to  see  you,  from  9.30  to 
4.00.  But  on  the  day  I  come,  so  far  from  having 
nothing  to  do,  there  will  be  three  men  waiting  to  see 


568     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

you  about  a  water  claim,  five  will  be  making  their 
wills,  seven  will  have  quarrels  to  settle,  and  thirteen 
wish  to  sue  for  bad  debts,  so  I  shall  only  open  the 
door  a  crack,  peep  in,  and  run  away.  You  will  think 
you  heard  a  mouse  and  that  is  all.  I  am  glad  Hatty 
has  a  servant.  A  husband  without  a  servant  is  a 
blessing  so  disguised  as  not  to  be  recognizable. 

Your  ducks  are  not  very  enterprising  —  dying  one 
at  a  time.  My  brother's  jumped  into  the  cistern  by 
the  dozen.  That  is  the  difference  between  Eastern 
and  Western  energy.  I  stayed  in  Minnesota  till  October 
16,  then  sailed  down  the  Mississippi  by  sun  and  moon 
light  gloriously,  slept  at  Chicago  the  night  General 
Butler  was  there  and  spoke  under  our  window,  then 
to  Indianapolis,  and  slept  on  its  flatness  fearfully, 
then  to  Cincinnati  visiting,  thence  October  22  to 
Louisville  by  sun  and  moon  shine  on  the  Ohio,  slept 
at  Nashville,  then  to  Chattanooga,  up  Lookout  Moun 
tain  and  over  the  battle-ground,  then  to  Kuoxville  to 
fight  Buruside's  battles  o'er  again  in  pleasant  weather, 
with  pleasant  friends,  thence  by  way  of  Bristol, 
Lynchburg,  etc.,  to  Washington,  where  we  stopped  a 
week,  sight-seeing  and  visiting  ;  drove  to  Mt.  Vernon, 
thence  to  Gettysburg,  thence  to  Harrisburg,  then  New 
York  for  a  week  or  so,  then  by  way  of  Meriden 
home.  And  I  like  to  think  of  you  back  in  Boston 
again. 

Now  don't,  prithee,  be  discomforted.  The  spring 
lies  so  surely  under  the  snow,  and  even  winter  treads 
softly  as  yet.  Next  Saturday  I  go  to  Newburyport 
with  my  niece  to  school,  and  I  remember  so  vividly 
my  own  first  school-going,  and  here  is  a  new  genera 
tion  coming  up.  Oh,  I  think  we,  who  have  lived, 
should  have  such  unspeakable  pity  and  tenderness  for 


BUSY    YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  569 

those  who  are  beginning  to  live.  It  isn't  of  any 
account  being  happy  yourself,  to  what  it  is  to  soften 
life  for  those  who  come  within  your  scope.  I  don't 
mean  being  unhappy,  but  simply  to  lack  perfect  hap 
piness,  or  even  positive  happiness.  One  can  enjoy 
vastly  many  things  without  it,  and  with  it  one  would 
be  in  so  frightfully  small  a  minority,  that  how  could 
he  help  a  fearful  looking-for  of  impending  change? 

Good-night,  dear  friend,  President,  or  presided 
over,  it  makes  no  odds  to  me,  so  you  are  yourself 
without  spot  or  wrinkle  or  any  such  thing.  For  me 
you  must  take  me,  spots,  wrinkles,  and  all,  or  leave 
me  altogether. 

DECEMBER  14. 

My  last  budget  I  sent  Tuesday.  For  news,  one  of 
our  chickens  has  broken  its  leg,  which  I  have  mended 
by  having  its  head  cut  off,  —  that  is  homoeopathy. 
That  night  I  went  to  Salem,  to  hear  Agassiz  lecture. 
I  was  very  much  pleased  with  him. 

DECEMBER  28. 

Say  to  Mr. Ford,  in  whatever  civil  phrase  you  choose, 
that  I  "  can't,  shan't,  and  won't"  write  for  his  paper. 
I  have,  as  the  Ollendorfs  say,  neither  time  nor  mind  to 
write.  It  is  very  well  for  you,  who  have  both,  to  go 
under  the  water,  but  I  find  it  all  I  can  do  to  breathe 
in  the  air.  Really,  I  have  no  time  to  do  half  the 
things  I  want  to  do,  and  I  have  nothing  in  particular 
to  say  in  a  religious  newspaper.  It  is  so  long  that  they 
have  refused  to  print  my  wayside  words,  that  I  don't 
have  any  wayside  thoughts  come  to  me  nowadays. 
Besides,  I  can  pull  my  Orthodox  string  as  hard  as  I 
like  and  no  harm  done,  but  let  me  give  ever  so  gentle 


570     UAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

a  twitch  to  the  Baptist  cord  and  down  comes  a 
shower-bath  on  my  head  and  takes  my  breath  away, 
which  the  Baptists  would  be  very  glad  of,  perhaps. 
And  I  do  not  like  this  way  of  giving  your  papers  in 
terest  by  talking  about  living  people,  though  I  like 
Mrs.  Stowe  who  does  it.  I  think  it  is  cultivating  a 
bad  taste  in  the  people,  who  are  greedy  enough  of 
gossip  and  personal  details  now. 

If  I  write  at  all  for  the  "W.  &.  R."  it  shall  be  for 
love  and  not  for  money.  If  anything  comes  to  me 
that  can  be  pressed  into  your  service  you  shall  have 
it,  but  what's  Ford  to  me,  or  me  to  Ford,  as  Shak- 
speare  says,  that  I  should  lay  myself  out  to  please 
him.  But  if  you  reply  for  me  reply  with  great  polite 
ness.  Translate  me  into  hypocrisy  thy  name  is  French  ! 
I  had  something  better  than  sherry  Christmas  Day  : 
Whittier's  prose  books  sent  to  me  by  his  own  saintly 
hand,  and  Mr.  Prang  has  sent  me  a  brood  of  chick 
ens  which  do  everything  but  chirp,  and  some  lovely 
mosses,  and  a  bird's  nest  and  things.  I  think  they 
are  beautiful. 

As  for  your  caunot-help-it-philosophy,  I  do  not 
believe  in  it.  It  may  be  true  as  a  present  fact,  but 
not  as  an  ultimatum.  It  is  a  devil's  breastwork  to  be 
beaten  down,  and  not  a  natural  division  of  land  and 
water  to  be  made  the  best  of.  I  can  never,  I  think, 
believe  that  God  has  put  eternal  death  into  human 
hands,  and  has  not  put  there  life.  I  suppose  one 
may  safely  take  for  granted,  that  there  always  will 
be  wickedness  in  the  world,  but  that  does  not  make 
that  it  is  not  wicked  and  should  not  be  opposed,  and 
while  every  creature  of  God  is  good,  every  natural 
quality  that  he  has  implanted  in  the  human  being 
innocent,  —  it  is  also  true  that  selfishness  and  reck- 


BUSY   YEARS   IN    HAMILTON  571 

lessness    and   grossncss    are    wretchedly    wrong    and 
fatal. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  love  between  men  and 
women  is  in  its  deepest  spirit  god-like.  It  is  of  the 
earth,  earthy  only  because  we  dwell  so  much  in  the 
outer  courts,  and  do  not  discern  the  divinity  within. 
In  every  aspect  it  is  a  type  of  something  so  heavenly 
that  it  can  in  no  way  be  revealed,  but  by  a  way  which 
concerns  the  penetralia  of  life.  God  will  not  be 
seen  by  unrecognizing  eyes,  so  they  see  only  the  out 
ward  form,  which  is  not  God  at  all.  Yet  God  is  there 
to  him  who  is  spiritually  discerned.  It  is  true,  you 
say,  we  do  not  often  speak  of  these  things,  but  not 
because  they  are  unworthy,  but  because  we  are.  To 
me  there  is  no  stronger  sign  of  total  depravity  than 
that  crust  of  profanity  and  uncleanness  and  frivolity 
which  so  widely  overlays  the  most  sacred  mysteries 
of  this  life.  They  are  not  to  be  talked  about,  for 
they  belong  to  the  things  which  will  not  bear  rough 
usage.  From  people  whose  whole  thought  and  living 
is  cr.rthly  one  expects  but  earthliness,  —  honest  per 
haps,  and  homely,  but  not  raising  us  higher.  But 
they  who  have  education  and  observation  and  religion, 
surely  they  ought  to  lift  us  up  and  not  drag  us  down. 
But  I  don't  think,  at  least  I  am  afraid,  that  knowledge 
does  not  spiritualize,  and  much  of  our  religion  does 
not  seem  to  help  the  matter.  Some  are  naturally 
swans,  and  some  are  naturally  swine  (it  was  not  the 
alliteration  that  lured  me  there),  and  the  one  is  white 
of  its  own  nature,  and  to  the  other  everything  is  mire. 
Yet  the  Divine  idea  is  swans,  not  swine,  and  so,  I 
think,  with  proper  pains  and  the  grace  of  God,  we 
shall  all  one  day  begin  to  show  the  white  feather  — 
unless  lazy  people  like  you  look  around  and  fold  their 


572    GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

soft  hands  and  say,  despairingly,  we  cannot  help  it, — 
"  or  rather  they  cannot  help  it."  It  is  very  difficult 
to  teach  right  doctrines,  but  I  should  be  greatly 
pleased  if  our  sage  bishops  and  other  clergy  would  stop 
teaching  their  infernalities.  Is  it  so  hard  to  hold  one's 
tongue?  I  never  tried,  so  I  can't  tell.  Did  I  send  you 
a  December  pansy?  I  picked  some  more  Christmas. 
Monday  morning.  I  have  read  this  over,  and  if  I 
had  time  to  write  another  I  would  not  send  this.  It 
is  always  fatal  to  my  letters  to  keep  them  over  night, 
This  looks  as  if  I  were  some  white-winged  angel 
soaring  up  out  of  sight  of  the  common  herd.  It  is 
no  such  tiling.  I  don't  pretend  to  be  any  better  than 
other  people.  I  put  myself  down  among  them  all,  — 
and  belong  there,  —  but  I  won't  say,  because  I  don't 
think,  that  is  the  right  place.  Moreover,  because  we 
are  on  the  earth  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  look 
at  the  stars  and  try  to  get  up  there  by  and  by,  and 
get  other  people  up,  too. 

JANUARY  3,  18G7. 

There  is  no  need  of  raising  metaphysical  distinc 
tion  about  the  meaning  of  create.  Whatever  the 
immortals  do,  you  know  that  souls  never  do  come 
into  existence  without  mortal  agency,  and  it's  no 
matter  when  they  begin  or  where  they  were  before. 
They  are  here  now,  and  that  is  our  lookout.  We  are 
not  responsible  for  God's  part  in  the  matter,  and  so 
we  need  say  nothing  about  it,  — as  practical  duty,  — 
though  of  course  there  is  no  wrong  in  thinking  and 
theorizing,  if  it  does  not  interfere  with  right  acting. 
I  trust  it  will  turn  out  that  the  relation  of  most  hus 
bands  and  wives  will  be  temporal  and  temporary.  I 
am  sure  I  don't  want  to  20  on  writing  "  New  Atmos- 


BUSY  YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  573 

pheres  "  to  all  eternity,  and  I  know  I  never  could 
hold  my  tongue,  even  in  heaven,  if  there  were  such 
actions  as  are  going  on  on  earth.  I  can't  carry  out 
my  ideas  of  "conjugal  love"  in  a  novel,  —  people, 
—  well,  it  is  too  public.  That's  the  trouble.  I  can't 
preach  and  I  can't  practise,  and  here  I  have  an  ideal, 
and  I  am  confident  it  is  the  only  reality. 

Time  won't  show  it,  perhaps,  but  if  you  are  good 
all  your  life,  maybe  you  will  see  it  in  some  white 
shining  star. 

I  had  a  note  from  Whittier,  who  says  he  will  show 
me  the  picture  of  Sumner's  wife  when  I  come  up,  — 
and  "Just  think  of  it!  instead  of  taking  his  carpet 
bag  and  starting  off  for  the  Washington  cars  as  afore 
time,  he  went  this  winter,  filling  a  coach  with  his 
family, — Mr.  Sumner  and  Mrs.  Sumner,  and  Mrs. 
Sumner's  child,  and  Mrs.  Sumner's  child's  nurse,  and 
Mrs.  Sumner's  little  dog.  Sumner  wrote  and  told  me 
what  he  was  going  to  do,  and  I  told  him  to  go  ahead, 
and  that  I  would  support  him  in  this  crisis  as  in  all 
others,  and  am  glad  for  his  sake,  for  I  hear  she  is 
good  and  worthy,  and,  best  of  all,  loves  him." 

I  have  a  very  fine  flock  of  birds  under  my  window. 
I  feed  them  well  with  canary  seed,  and  they  pay  me 
well  by  coming  to  eat  it,  and  chirping  under  the  win 
dow.  Mr.  Whipple  came  in  with  another  album 
from  a  friend  of  his,  who  would  like  "  quite  a  piece," 
which  I  gave,  —  copied  from  Bacon  ;  catch  me  writ 
ing  "  pieces  "  of  my  own  in  albums  !  Might  as  well 
ask  for  the  money  and  done  with  it ! 

JANUARY  23,   1867. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  WOOD  :  Why  a  man  who  sets  up 
housekeeping  in  the  skies  at  will  should  go  and  bang 


574     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

his  head  against  the  pavement  for  the  sake  of  "  see 
ing  stars,"  I  cannot  conceive.  Ordinary  people 
might  take  that  method  of  studying  astronomy ;  but 
such  a  Peter  as  you,  who  holds  in  his  hands  the  keys 
of  heaven,  and  pays  a  morning  call  there  with  as 
much  nonchalance  as  he  eats  his  breakfast,  might  be 
supposed  beyond  the  necessity  of  such  violence. 
However,  you  have  saved  your  skull  this  time,  some 
what  to  my  astonishment,  I  must  confess,  and  I  hope 
you  will  preserve  your  equanimity  and  your  equilib 
rium  for  the  future. 

I  have  received  your  manuscript  of  Mrs.  Smith's 
flight  to  the  stars.  No  note  came  with  it,  but  I  sup 
pose  it  is  not  suited  to  the  temperature  of  the  briny 
Atlantic.  Augusta  and  I  have  both  read  it  with  the 
greatest  amusement,  but  I  should  never  think  of  its 
being  published.  We  only  wanted  you  present  to 
laugh  with  us.  It  is  so  exquisitely  absurd  —  and 
grotesque.  Augusta  said  it  was  just  like  you,  sitting 
back  in  the  carriage  and  talking  your  mingled  religion 
and  fashion.  Oh  !  you  are  too  absurd.  What  shall 
I  do  with  this  book  ?  You  are  the  very  oddest  man 
and  writer  I  know,  or,  at  least,  think  of  at  this  mo 
ment.  How  came  all  these  quips  and  cranks  into 
your  common-sonse  New  England  head?  I  think  you 
are  born  out  of  place  and  time.  You  belong  in  the 
dusty  tomes  of  some  quaint  old  library. 

Galore  is  a  dictionary  word,  I  believe,  —  perhaps  a 
little  antiquated.  I  rather  think  it  is  as  old  as 
Chaucer. 

JANUARY  26,   1867. 

Poverty  is  a  means  of  grace.  Poverty  is  the  dark 
sky  in  which  the  stars  shine  out  with  a  brilliance 
which  the  sunshine  of  prosperity  dazzles  into  ob- 


BUSY  YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  575 

scurity.  Poverty  is  the  nursing  mother  of  virtue  and 
genius,  and  is  doubtless  a  blessing.  I  shouldn't  like 
it,  but  then  I  haven't  got  it. 

What  you  say  about  Irish  children  is  false  in  fact 
and  demoralizing  in  tendency.  Here  we  live,  and 
next  door  live  the  Irish.  Ours  is  a  family  of  seven 
children,  and  of  the  two  Irish  families,  one  has  one 
child  and  the  other  has  none.  Now,  then,  where  are 
your  statistics?  And  for  all  practical  purposes  the 
soul  begins  with  the  body,  when  it  begins  at  all.  We 
do  not  infrequently  see  bodies  walking  about  without 
any  souls  in  them  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  we  don't 
see  souls  stripped  from  bodies  ;  and  all  you  and  I 
have  to  do  is  to  look  out  for  visible  souls. 

We  have  had  a  snowstorm.  I  have  amused  myself 
walking  over  the  fences.  Mr.  D.  amused  himself 
blowing  down  his  chimneys.  The  snow-birds  come 
by  the  half  dozen,  and  I  feed  them  with  canary- 
seed.  The  apple-boughs  lie  on  the  snow,  and  I  stood 
among  them  and  thought  of  the  beauty  and  bloom 
gathering  there  and  the  songs  preparing  to  sing.  I 
wish  I  could  make  you  believe  in  a  change  of  seasons. 
One  can  always  bear  the  frost  so  well  if  he  smells  the 
flowers  beneath.  Don't  you  fret  yourself  about  the 
frames.  Get  off  as  cheaply  as  will  be  at  all  pretty. 
But  I  think  those  ferns  and  vines  are  beautiful.  You 
spoke  of  the  chromes  being  make-believe  oil  paint 
ings.  I  want  them  to  be  honest  chromos,  just  cheap 
prettinesses.  You  know  there  is  no  demoralization 
where  there  is  no  deception.  We  have  had  company 
all  day  and  I  have  done  nothing.  Winter  is  more 
than  half  over,  and  it  has  been  so  decidedly  winter 
that  I  expect  spring  will  be  in  a  hurry.  Only  think 
that  all  your  life  long  every  year  you  will  see  the 


576    ^ AIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

grass  growing  and  the  air  softening  into  fruit  and 
flowers  !  My  gray  little  homely  birds  are  only  the  har 
bingers  of  what  will  be  so  brilliant.  I  think  already 
of  the  damp  mosses  and  the  cool  shadows  and  the  fra 
grance  of  sun-steeped  pastures,  all  brown  and  burnt, 
and  crackling  under  your  feet.  Dreadful,  isn't  it? 
but  the  sun  seems  so  powerful  then.  I  wonder  if 
one  ever  could  get  tired  of  summer.  Do  you  ever  feel 
as  if  you  were  a  duplex  and  triplex  and  tweuty-plex 
person?  1  do.  Seems  as  if  you  might  take  me  out, 
one  box  after  another,  and  they  are  not  in  the  least 
alike.  Don't  sink  into  life  so  deep  as  to  be  buried 
alive.  You  can't  ever  see  your  hand  before  you,  so 
what  is  the  use  in  being  anxious  ?  And  if  you  could 
see  your  hand,  what  better  off  are  you? 

FEBRUARY  5,   18G7. 

You  are  the  dearest  creature,  and  I  would  tell  you  so 
if  it  weren't  that  you  would  say  it  was  all  loaves  and 
fishes  and  picture  frames.  It  isn't.  They  came  yester 
day  and  I  think  they  are  beautiful.  You  can't  tell  how 
much  I  thank  you  for  them.  Those  rustic  frames  are 
as  lovely  as  possible,  and  just  as  suited  to  the  wild 
grace  of  the  vines,  and  all  of  them  are  beautiful  and 
only  show  how  much  better  a  fair  soul  looks  in  a  fair 
body,  as  I  always  told  you.  I  am  going  to  capture 
a  carpenter  to  hammer  in  some  hooks.  I  wish  you 
had  come  down  with  the  pictures,  and  wouldn't  we 
have  had  a  good  time  hanging  them  !  I  would  not 
only  say  to  my  servant  go,  but  go  hang !  I  am  afraid 
that  is  almost  wicked,  now.  I  won't  say  it  any  more. 
But  'twas  only  the  centurion  who  said  it  in  the  first 
place,  and  I  don't  know  that  I  am  bound  to  pay  any 
special  honor  to  him.  That  book  of  Clark's,  well, 


BUSY  YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  577 

now,  I  don't  care  to  read  anybody  on  theology  who  is 
not  standard  in  his  own  set.  Does  Clark  compel 
your  assent  and  respect?  If  he  does  not  I  will  none 
of  him.  I  want  light.  I  don't  want  feeling  after  the 
light.  I  can  do  that  myself.  What  I  would  do  if  I 
were  rich  would  be  to  have  you  come  here  and  turn 
this  unsightly  wilderness  of  a  farm  that  I  live  on  into 
something  pleasant  for  the  eye  and  good  for  food. 
All  it  has  to  recommend  it  now  is  pure  air  and  sun 
shine.  That  is  much,  to  be  sure,  but  it  could  have 
those  in  abundance  and  beauty  too.  Such  a  home  as 
I  saw  of  mine  in  a  dream  once  !  Ah  !  my  dear,  we 
weren't  meant  to  have  our  homes  in  this  world,  were 
we  ?  And  you  won't  heartily  believe  in  any  other,  so 
there  we  are. 

I  have  troubles,  too.  My  hens  don't  lay  more  than 
an  egg  a  day,  and  the  pump  has  frozen  up  and  the 
pipe  burst  or  something,  and  my  ungrateful  birds, 
after  I  had  bought  them  two  quarts  of  canary  seed, 
went  and  left  me  just  because  there  was  a  thaw  — 
and  you  ai-e  very  wrong  about  their  being  nuisances, 
for  they  don't  destroy  our  strawberries.  We  haven't 
any  for  them,  and  if  they  will  be  so  good  as  to  eat 
our  sour  little  bitter  cherries  they  are  doubly  welcome. 
I  wish  you  could  stuff  one  of  my  Regan-and-Goneril 
birds  that  frequented  the  bank  when  I  dispensed 
charity — a  magnificent  gray  and  white  calm-souled 
creature,  who  squatted  in  the  snow  as  reposef  ully  as  if 
it  had  beeu  a  bed  of  down.  And  no  matter  if  all  men 
born  of  women  preexisted,  all  I  say,  it  is  of  no  prac 
tical  importance  to  us,  but  you  will  run  head-first 
against  that  blank  wall  and  stand  there  and  beat 
your  brains  out,  and  I  come  up  and  lead  you  away, 
and  the  minute  I  look  up,  there  you  are  at  it  again  ! 


578     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

You  ought  to  read  the  autobiography  of  Heiurich 
Stilling  if  you  waut  to  know  some  other  perplexity 
than  your  own.  It  is  a  curious,  naive,  gushing  book- 
ful  of  tears,  and  embraces,  and  kisses,  and  telling 
tales  out  of  school,  but  with  a  good  deal  of  solid 
sense  and  sound  religion  besides. 

FEBRUARY  20. 

Did  I  speak  to  you  about  "  Henry  Holbeach"?  It 
is  one  of  the  most  attractive  books  I  have  seen  this 
many  a  day.  It  confirms  one  in  the  faith  somehow. 
Did  you  ever  notice  the  different  spontaneous  re 
sponses  we  give  to  books.  Some  we  assent  to  in  a 
sort  of  negative  way  because  we  really  can  see  no 
flaw  in  the  reasoning.  Others  we  spring  to  with 
instant  recognition. 

Mr.  D.  has  rather  gone  over  to  the  opposition 
about  my  letters.  Since  he  has  been  away  I  have 
written  him  several,  perfectly  so-so  letters  they  were, 
too.  The  other  day  he  came  up  on  an  errand  and  in 
vited  himself  here  to  tea,  to  our  great  satisfaction,  and 
broke  out :  "  I  don't  wonder  people  want  you  to  write 
letters  to  them."  To-day  he  was  up  again  and  said 
he  got  a  letter  from  me  yesterday,  "  and  a  beautiful 
letter  it  was,  too !  "  The  fact  is,  I  don't  suppose  he 
has  been  accustomed  to  any  but  business  letters  all 
his  life.  He  is  one  of  the  best  of  men,  honest  and 
true,  and  it  really  did  me  good  to  see  his  round  ruddy 
face  smiling  in  at  the  door.  I  never  heard  of  your 
Platonic  attachments.  I  know  very  well  which  class 
I  should  fall  into.  I  am  not  very  intellectual,  but  I 
am  religious.  A  gentleman  asked  me  last  Saturday 
how  I  liked  the  minister.  I  said  "I  hated  him! 
that's  how  I  liked  him."  When  I  heard,  however,  that 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  579 

he  was  a  Methodist  brother  I  held  my  tongue.  I  don't 
feel  any  call  to  chastise  my  neighbor's  children,  nor 
to  refrain  from  chastising  my  own  !  Do  you  mean  to 
say  that  I  grow  less  agreeable  as  I  grow  old  ?  On 
the  contrary,  I  think  I  improve  vastly,  and  by  the 
time  I  get  to  be  eighty  I  expect  to  be  a  belle  and  a 
beauty.  May  you  be  there  to  see ! 

Have  you  seen  Whittier's  new  poem?  He  has  just 
sent  it  to  me.  I  have  not  read  it,  but  I  know  the 
best  part  of  it  is  what  he  has  written  on  the  fly-leaf. 
I  suppose  the  great  mass  of  persons  in  the  world  are 
really  incapable  of  friendship.  No  otherwise  can  I 
account  for  the  clouds  that  seem  to  hang  over  so 
many.  I  am  as  far  as  possible  from  believing  that 
friendship  should,  or  can,  encroach  upon  love.  It 
seems  to  me  they  may  run  in  parallel  lines  forever, 
since  parallels  never  meet.  I  have  a  very  great  scorn 
for  the  notion  you  often  find  afloat  that  propinquity 
is  the  —  what  do  the  theologians  call  it  ?  —  predispos 
ing  cause  of  love.  It  may  be  a  sufficient  cause  for 
that  bread-and-butter  sentiment  which  keeps  the  pot 
boiling,  and,  of  course,  if  two  substances  have  the 
natural  affinity  the  coming  together  is  all  that  is 
necessary,  but  the  natural  affinity  is  the  very  thing  in 
question.  Oil  and  water  are  no  more  one  thing  in  a 
dish-pan  than  they  are  out  of  it.  And  I  wish  there 
were  high  living  enough  in  the  world  to  be  at  least 
recognized  as  a  ponderable  and  visible  and  appre 
ciable  thing  in  its  own  right. 

My  sister  says  the  reason  your  hens  calculate  so 
nicely  is  because  they  are  so  near  the  Observatory, 
and  she  has  some  stupid  scholars  she  would  like  to 
shut  up  in  your  coop  till  their  mathematics  rose  to  a 
level  with  the  bantams.  /  am  raising  chickens.  I 


580     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

put  fifteen  foreign  eggs  under  a  hen  last  Saturday. 
First  I  knew  she  was  on  another  nest.  So  now  I 
watch  her,  and  when  she  comes  off  I  clap  an  old  hood 
on  the  eggs  and  follow  her  round  till  she  goes  on 
again  —  generally  to  the  wrong  nest,  and  set  her 
right.  If  those  eggs  do  turn  into  chickens  they  will 
owe  it  to  me  as  much  as  to  the  hens. 

Yes,  I  have  been  over  to  Whittier's.  Your  heresy 
on  the  tent  is  such  as  deprives  you  of  all  claim  on  the 
story  of  my  career  there,  so  I  will  only  tell  you  that 
we  had  a  whole  long  evening  to  ourselves,  Dr.  Hayes 
having  kindly  volunteered  to  draw  off  the  surplus 
population  to  lecture  on  icebergs,  walrus,  and  such 
small  deer.  Then  I  went  to  Mrs.  Spalding's,  and  had 
brilliant  glimpses  of  her  between  relays  of  company, 
and  she  inquired  for  you.  She  is  a  superb  woman. 
Her  letters  astonish  me,  every  last  one  most.  They 
are  finished  prose.  It  is  like  reading  some  elegant 
writer,  a  classic  production.  Now  don't  you  go  and 
praise  her  up  to  the  skies  for  the  purpose  of  taking 
me  down,  and  don't  you  be  always  telling  me  how 
queenlike  and  elegant  all  your  friends  are.  Don't  you 
know  it's  only  another  way  of  telling  me  how  dumpy 
and  dwarfish  I  am?  And  besides,  I  don't  believe  they 
are  very  elegant.  It  is  only  a  way  you  have  of  glori 
fying  yourself.  I  dare  say  when  you  are  talking  with 
people  who  will  never  cross  my  orbit  you  sing  the 
same  song  about  me. 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

APRIL  16,  1867. 

Our  housekeeper  went  away  in  March,  and  since 
then,  with  an  Irish  aide-de-camp  for  emergencies,  my 


•BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  581 

mother  and  I  have  kept  the  ship  afloat.  I  am  now 
become  quite  learned  in  beef-steaks  and  batters,  and 
as  house-cleaning  has  already  appeared  above  the 
horizon,  T  suppose  my  knowledge  will  branch  out  into 
brooms  and  mops  and  scrubbing-brushes. 

Well,  and  I  have  been  to  Dr.  G.  of  Boston,  the 
hero  of  electricity  and  galvanism,  and  he  lands  you, 
sir,  high  and  dry  on  the  shores  of  empiricism  !  What 
do  you  think  of  that,  you  man  of  all  worlds,  but  the 
especial  lover  of  this  ?  He  did  not  advise  recurrence 
to  his  galvanism  for  mother,  thought  it  would  be 
attended  with  danger.  I  also  went  to  a  clairvoyant, 
but  that  is  a  secret.  She  made  a  sad  miss  of  it,  but 
I  got  my  dollar's  worth  of  phenomena.  She  was 
voluble  anent  the  "  Internals,"  but  shy  of  the  "  Ex 
ternals," —  which  showed  her  sagacity.  You  know 
you  can  hazard  almost  any  assertion  about  a  person's 
liver,  and  he  cannot  contradict  you,  being  generally 
innocent  of  all  knowledge  of  the  locality  or  condition 
of  that  scape-goat  of  an  organ. 

You  have  been  very  cross  of  late  —  that  I  know 
right  well.  You  wondered  why  God  did  not  rain 
down  hail-stones  upon  the  getter  s-up  of  Catholic- 
Episcopalianism !  I  rather  think  if  speculative  theol 
ogy  is  to  be  punished  with  hail-stones  you  would 
better  buy  a  new  umbrella  !  Heretic  that  you  are, 
you  would  prove  your  orthodoxy  by  branding  all 
other  heretics.  Well,  it  is  not  such  a  very  uncommon 
thing,  after  all. 

Yesterday  was  our  first  spring  day.  The  air  was 
really  warm,  and  to-day  our  peas  are  in  and  watered 
by  a  warm,  steady  rain.  I  have  twenty  little  chickens 
as  lovely  as  you  ever  saw.  I  have  beautiful  flowers 
in  my  room,  house-flowers  from  my  own  plants,  but 


582     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

tended  by  my  friends.  The  house  has  been  fragrant 
with  heliotrope,  that  sweetest  of  scents,  so  impalpable, 
so  penetrating,  so  deliciously  suggestive. 

The  ministers  are  all  going  away  in  this  vicinity. 
Mr.  Southgate  and  Mr.  Fitz  have  resigned  in  Ipswich, 
and  Mr.  Sewell  in  Wenham.  The  latter  takes  a  pro 
fessorship  in  Bowdoiu  College.  I  went  to  Newbury- 
port  to  see  the  launch  of  the  "  Erie."  It  was 
wondrous  beautiful.  I  had  no  suspicion  a  launch  could 
be  so  grand  and  inspiriting.  There  was  a  great 
multitude,  but  no  crowd.  Afterward  I  called  on  Mrs. 
Spofford  and  her  blue-eyed  bab}T.  She  looked  charm 
ing  and  he  promising  —  not  to  put  it  too  mildly.  Her 
health  has  been  indifferent,  but  she  is  now  improving. 
My  niece,  Josie,  is  very  happy  with  Mrs.  Dimmick. 
I  trust  you  are  well  and  happy.  That  is  trusting  a 
great  deal,  isn't  it? 

Yours  as  ever, 

M.  A.  D. 

APRIL  13,  18G7. 

"It  is  done.  Clang  of  bells  and  roar  of  gun  send 
the  tidings  up  and  down." 

My  dear 
They  are  here. 
But  oh ! 
Woe !  woe ! 
Is  me 
To  see 
Myself  as  others  see  me. 

I  dare  say  they  are  good  likenesses,  but  it  is  cruel 
in  you  to  want  to  perpetuate  them.  The  good  God 
made  wie,  and  we  cannot  help  ourselves,  but  he  never 
made  photographs,  and  State  soven'ignty  extends  over 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  583 

them.  They  are  good  pictures  as  art.  I  have  not 
shown  them  and  shall  not  show  them  to  any  one. 
On  no  account  let  Mrs.  F.  see  them,  and  above  all 
things  keep  me  from  being  hung  on  the  public  gallows. 
Believe  me  if  I  ever  hear  of  these  being  seen  any 
where,  if  they  ever  get  into  so  small  a  public,  it  will 
be  a  lasting  annoyance  to  me.  My  only  objection  is 
that  they  look  just  like  me,  and  when  I  wish  to  be 
transparent  and  see  only  life  and  the  world,  why 
should  you  seize  and  fix  me,  an  opaque  body,  to 
"  stain  the  white  radiance  of  eternity  "  withal?  Now, 
I  beg  you  at  once  to  destroy  them  body  and  soul,  — 
negative  and  positive,  —  and  write  and  tell  me  so. 
Then  let  us  saints  forget  we  have  bodies  till  we  are 
good  enough  to  go  to  heaven  and  be  clothed  upon 
with  immortality. 

1  shall  not  go  to  Boston  again  to  have  my  picture 
taken  till  it  is  warm  enough  to  wear  a  white  dress  so 
I  need  not  be  obliged  to  discard  my  own  clothes  and 
be  folded  in  a  rag  that  has  wrapped  Egyptian  mummies 
in  Thebes'  street  three  thousand  years  ago,  for  aught 
I  know.  I  think  that  is  one  reason  I  looked  so  cross. 
I  felt  uncomfortable  and  ill-placed,  and  then  I  am 
cross  besides,  and  my  pitch- forked  vision  does  not 
mend  the  matter.  Do  try  and  hunt  up  those  missing 
photographs.  Do  I  look  like  that,  I  wonder?  I  stay 
at  home  among  mine  own  people  and  am  full  of  other 
things  and  forget  all  about  myself  till  I  go  out  into 
the  world,  and  then  every  once  in  a  while  I  somehow 
get  a  glimpse  of  facts  and  am  scared  back  again. 
This  photograph  is  one  of  the  glimpses. 

Mr.  Fields  wants  me  to  have  the  book  —  a  few  chap 
ters —  printed  in  the  "Atlantic,"  before  publishing 
in  book  form.  He  affirms  that  it  is  capital,  and  that 


584    GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

when  he  is  reading  it  he  has  to  roll  himself  up  into  a 
ball  and  roll  round  the  street  to  relieve  himself.  I 
don't  think  very  favorably  of  his  plan,  and  I  hardly 
think  I  shall  agree  to  it.  I  think  it  will  have  more 
dignity  as  a  book  than  as  a  series  of  articles.  Mr. 
Foster  came  over  and  planted  peas,  and  we  had  a 
long  conversation  on  intellect,  ambition,  books,  social 
differences,  in  which  we  agree  to  a  charm,  both  of  us 
being  eminently  sensible. 

APRIL  29. 

Your  departure  was  speedily  followed  by  the  advent 
of  -  -  with  a  thimbleful  of  cranberries,  which  was 
just  as  much  an  act  of  love,  to  be  honored  and 
thanked,  as  if  she  had  brought  a  gold-mine.  She 
could  not  think  of  anybody  she  should  so  much  wish 
to  have  them  as  mother,  and  she  said  they  were  very 
good  to  eat  uncooked,  and  asked  me  to  try  one,  which 
I  did,  and  affirmed  in  an  agony  between  a  smile  and  a 
pucker  that  it  was  very  nice,  —  why,  yes,  and  immedi 
ately  backed  out  of  the  room  and  ejected  it  into  the 
stove  with  enthusiasm. 

A  letter  from  Professor  Stowe  lamenting  that  his 
wife  and  "Our  Charlie"  had  left  him  the  Thursday 
before,  the  former  going  to  Florida,  the  latter  to  sea. 
They  have  a  son,  Captain  Fred.,  on  a  cotton  planta 
tion  in  F.,  and  I  suppose  they  will  go  there  to  live. 
I  am  real  sorry  he  is  going  away.  Charlie  has  been 
to  sea  once,  —  a  Mediterranean  voyage,  —  and  had  a 
specially  hard  time  of  it,  and  came  back  more  pas 
sionate  for  the  sea  than  ever.  Also  a  long  letter  from 
Mr.  Baxter  telling  all  about  Kate's  wedding,  and  the 
most  penitent  apologies  for  not  telling  about  it  before. 
He  says  her  wardrobe  was  gotten  up  by  a  lady  friend 


BUSY   YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  585 

in  Philadelphia,  and  the  only  active  participation  he 
had  in  it  was  to  pay  the  bills.  Judging  from  the 
amount  required  to  liquidate  them,  he  is  prepared  to 
say  it  was  complete  and  splendid.  The  wedding-dress 
was  white  ribbed  silk,  and  cost  a  fraction  over  three 
hundred  dollars.  They  will  stay  at  home  till  July, 
and  then  take  a  house  of  their  own.  Mitchell  is  sec 
ond  in  his  class  at  college,  with  a  prospect  of  soon 
becoming  first,  and  Lewis  has  taken  the  first  prize  for 
declamation.  Mr.  -  -  is  somewhat  better,  has  dis 
carded  Dr.  Kimball  and  taken  a  spiritual  medium  doc 
tor,  who  orders  a  wash  of  Castile  soap.  There  are 
some  people  who  would  not  use  it  without  an  order 
from  the  other  world.  I  have  just  bought  nearly  a 
pound  of  it  —  good  English. 

How  I  wish  there  might  never  be  any  such  para 
graphs  set  afloat !  It  is  not  going  to  be  intensely 
funny,  nor  intensely  anything.  It  has  not  a  view  in 
it  moral,  social,  political,  or  landscapical  —  not  to  omit 
theological.  There  is  no  problem  that  it  is  going  to 
solve,  nor  any  reform  which  it  will  advance.  You 
need  not  say  maliciously  these  are  mere  negative  vir 
tues.  Make  much  of  them,  for  it  has  no  positive. 

Somebody  has  sent  me  an  engraving  of  ' '  Bierstadt's 
Rocky  Mountains."  I  had  a  nice  young  cousin  here 
this  afternoon,  and  the  moment  she  looked  at  my 
birds'  nests  and  vines,  she  cried,  "Oh!  there  they 
are,  but  how  beautiful  the  frames  are  !  "  I  did  not  tell 
her  whose  taste  they  were.  Do  you  think  I  will  give 
all  the  glory  to  you,  when  by  the  simple  process  — 
simple  to  me  from  long  practice  —  of  holding  my 
tongue  1  can  get  the  lion's  share  of  it  myself?  Speak 
ing  of  lions,  you  will  have  to  hurry  up  your  Deutsch 
a  little  if  you  mean  to  keep  ahead  of  me.  I  am  read- 


586     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

ing  "  Lessing's  Fables,"  and  find  his  snakes  and  foxes 
very  entertaining. 

Whenever  a  man  does  something  annoying  and  irri 
tating  it  puts  me  out  with  the  whole  world  of  men. 
I  suppose  it  is  just  as  bad  for  a  man  as  for  a  woman, 
that  is,  I  esteem  it  due  to  courtesy  to  say  so,  but  the 
thought  of  being  indissolubly  bound  to  any  one,  to  be 
forced  to  stand  sponsor  for  all  his  obtusenesses  and 
perversities  and  obstinacies  and  weaknesses,  to  be  cut 
to  the  heart  by  every  edged  tool  he  chooses  to  use,  or 
does  not  know  that  he  uses,  to  have  your  most  secret 
soul  and  life  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  some  one  else, 
with  no  hiding-place  and  no  court  of  withdrawal  save 
the  abandonment  of  all  hope  —  Just  here  came  your 
letter  and  house-cleaning  and  company,  so,  fortunately 
for  you,  my  sentence  remains  unfinished.  You  have 
some  very  heretical  and  mischievous  and  abominable 
notions  which  it  becomes  my  painful  duty  to  extirpate. 
I  do  not  object  to  your  liking  women  because  they  are 
women,  and  in  a  different  manner  from  men.  That 
is  in  the  nature  of  things,  and  I  believe  in  nature  most 
strenuously.  And  it  is  a  great  pity  you  did  not  put 
your  letter  into  the  post-office  when  it  was  finished, 
and  so  spare  yourself  that  lamentable  paragraph  about 
love  and  friendship,  and  buds  and  blossoms.  To  be 
sure,  a  bud  may  develop  into  leaf  or  fruit,  but  a  peach- 
bud  never  develops  into  a  grape.  Friendship  is  fruit 
as  much  as  love  is  fruit.  Friendship  may  flower  into 
perfect  beauty,  yet  never  become  love.  Perhaps  I  am 
not  competent  to  treat  that  subject.  But  certainly  if 
love  is  something  whose  natural  culmination  is  mar 
riage,  whose  tendency  is  to  absorption,  something 
that  makes  you  want  to  live  all  your  life  with  some 
body  else,  makes  you  want  to  give  up  all  your  own 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  587 

life  and  make  it  seem  no  risk  to  risk  everything,  why 
then  love  is  something  as  far  apart  from  friendship 
as  the  elm  tree  is  from  Mount  Athos.  Of  course 
every  person's  capacity  for  the  one  or  the  other  de 
pends  upon  his  organization.  I  dare  say  that  the 
power  of  the  two  is  generally  combined.  I  cannot  say 
that  it  always  is. 

What  you  do  like  of  me  is  something  apart  from 
head  or  hair  —  something  that  is  a  great  deal  more 
me,  and  that  will  be  me  "  when  our  good  swords 
rust  and  our  steeds  are  dust."  I  know  it  is  not 
philosophy  and  it  is  not  goodness.  It  is  some 
thing  infinitely  more  impalpable  and  inexplicable 
than  they. 

Have  you  read  "  Katharine  Morne  "?  Now,  that 
Charles  Dudley  has  noble  traits.  But  I  fear  there 
are  not  many  men  who  would  write  such  a  love-letter 
as  thit.  It  is  so  utterly  high-minded.  It  makes  a 
woman  feel  self-respect  to  be  so  addressed.  I  always 
feel  better  after  reading  Miss  Palfrey's  things.  She 
says  never  anything  low.  Contrast  her  with  -  — , 
who  outrages  every  avenue  of  approach.  His  last 
part,  treating  the  minister  and  the  girls,  is  vile- 
ness  itself.  As  representing  a  class  of  the  clergy 
it  is  entirely  untrue.  I  should  think  he  would  be 
ashamed  of  himself  to  be  able  to  conceive  such 
thoughts,  connecting  things  heavenly  and  things 
earthly  in  such  an  unholy  alliance,  carrying  away 
his  ministers  and  doctors  with  such  fantastic  whims. 
And  what  an  absolute  downright — is  it  too  much  to 
say  fool?  —  he  is  in  making  Cynthia  Badlam  so 
overcome  by  the  spectacle  of  a  pair  of  bare  baby- 
legs,  as  if  you  could  not  see  them  by  the  dozen  any 
time,  whether  you  have  any  of  your  own  or  not.  But 


588     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

don't  let  us  get  angry  and  abusive.     Say  something 
good,  and  grand,  and  magnanimous. 

April  25,  1867,  Friday.  Good-Friday  to  you, 
and  a  charming  home  and  a  pleasant  life,  and 
amiable  friends  like 

Yours  truly. 

The  picture  is  come,  and  it  is  a  beauty,  and  well 
worth  its  frame.  How  many  times  do  you  suppose  I 
should  stop  to  take  a  picture  out  of  a  portfolio  and 
look  at  it?  Now,  whenever  I  choose  to  look  up,  there 
they  are,  —  my  mountains,  my  mosses,  my  angels, 
my  chickens.  I  don't  know  what  the  anticipations 
of  your  youth  were,  but  mine  have  been  a  great  deal 
better  than  filled  by  the  actualities  of  age.  I  don't 
mean  fame,  or  anything  of  that  sort,  but  life  is  more 
keenly  enjoyable  than  I  had  any  thought  it  would  be. 
To  be  sure,  I  had  not  much  thought  about  it  anyway, 
and  what  I  enjoy  is  a  sort  of  intangible  thing,  not 
easily  defined  in  words.  One  thing  I  enjoy  is  the 
knowledge  that  I  can  live  on  nothing,  or  next  to 
nothing,  if  it  becomes  necessary.  My  strawberries 
are  doing  well.  I  have  not  a  strawberry  in  the  world. 
I  mean  the  plants,  and  I  have  had  the  walks  turfed 
to  keep  down  the  weeds,  and  the  grass  still  lives,  and 
the  peas  are  well  up,  and  isn't  it  cold? 

Five  of  my  chickens  are  gone.  The  other  fifteen 
are  growing  homely,  but  they  shall  not  lose  their 
place  in  my  heart.  I  am  not  of  that  fickle  make  to 
be  won  only  by  the  charms  of  down  and  pin-feathers. 
Young  Henry  James,  I  think,  is  one  of  the  most 
promising  writers  we  have.  His  stories  are  studies. 
He  has  a  way  and  a  thought  of  his  own.  How  much 
there  is  in  this  last  story  of  his  just  begun.  All  his 


BUSY   TEARS   IN  HAMILTON  589 

stories  have  body.  His  women,  if  they  are  wicked 
or  foolish,  have  their  own  way  of  being  so.  They 
are  not  the  old  block  women  handed  down  by  tradi 
tion,  with  only  the  change  of  waterfalls  and  rats,  or 
whatever  is  the  last  new  style.  I  don't  know. 


JUNE  3,  1867. 

MY  DEAR  JDDGE  :  Was  I  cross  when  I  wrote  my 
last  letter?  I  am  afraid  so.  Well,  I  had  a  reason 
for  it.  That  is  one  thing  remarkable  about  me.  I 
am  never  disagreeable  without  some  good  reason, 
whereas  you  and  the  rest  of  the  world  will  suffer 
yourself  to  lose  your  fine  poise  from  any  whim.  But 
that  day  something  had  happened  to  me.  I  thought 
I  was  threatened  with  a  loss  of  friendship,  regard, 
respect,  and  so  I  took  a  sudden  scorn  of  friends, 
and  put  on  perhaps  high-heeled  boots,  and  went  on 
the  rampage.  I  am  not  fretful  and  ill-tempered 
around  home.  I  hope  you  won't  think  I  go  cater 
wauling  over  the  house  as  I  do  in  letters.  I  am 
not  peevish  and  fault-finding  and  horrid,  but  I  am 
stormy,  —  not  a  northeast  rain-stormy  or  snow- 
squally,  but  a  magnetic  storm,  you  know,  that  raves 
and  rages  through  sunshine  and  clear  skies,  and  gives 
no  sign  except  to  the  electricians.  Unfortunately 
you  are  an  electrician  because  you  don't  live  with 
me.  I  can't  be  cross  to  people  that  are  right  before 
my  face  and  eyes,  so  I  have  to  discharge  my  thunders 
(electrical)  through  letters. 

Why  should  I  cut  the  grass  about  the  door?  I 
want  it  high,  and  rank,  and  dense,  and  see  it  wave 
in  the  wind  and  shine  in  the  sun ;  and  the  birds  are 
so  brilliant,  and  saucy,  and  fat !  Young  Henry  James 


590     GAIL    HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

is  the  sou  of  old  Henry  James,  and  old  Henry  James 
used  to  be  one  of  rny  friends.  He  took  me  up,  think 
ing  he  should  make  something  of  me.  He  very  soon 
found  out  his  mistake,  and  dropped  me,  —  but 
gently,  —  so  that  my  memory  of  him  is  not  put  to 
the  blush  even  by  this  June  morning.  But  while  we 
had  dealings  together  I  found  that  on  some  points 
his  views  were  more  palpably,  definitely,  positively  in 
consonance  with  mine  than  those  of  any  other  man  I 
ever  met.  You  are  nowhere  in  the  comparison.  You 
are  sometimes  right  concretely  and  by  instinct.  He 
was  right  abstractly  and  on  principle.  I  disappointed 
him  sadly,  for  I  was  not  able  intellectually  to  com 
prehend  him,  and  though  I  knew  it  in  the  beginning, 
and  told  him  so  repeatedly,  he  would  not  believe  it 
till  he  found  it  out  of  himself  to  his  sorrow.  Now 
we  are  good  friends,  but  I  have  the  advantage  inas 
much  as  my  knowledge  of  him  is  a  source  of  hope  lo 
me,  while  his  knowledge  of  me  has  only  given  him 
another  failure.  That  is  who  young  Henry  James  is. 
He  is  the  son  of  his  father,  of  course.  My  Henry 
James  is  sometimes  one  of  the  most  entertaining  of 
men.  He  has  a  way  of  surprising  you  that  is  highly 
amusing.  My  mother  sighs  over  your  mother  get 
ting  breakfast.  I  don't  want  my  mother  to  get 
breakfast,  but  I  wish  she  were  able  to  do  it.  I  have 
had  company  the  past  week,  and  we  have  been  living 
on  a  series  of  experiments.  My  sister  was  at  home, 
and  we  made  desperate  assaults  on  the  cook-books. 
Our  guest  paid  the  best  of  compliments  to  our 
experiments  by  cheerfully  eating  them  up,  but  my 
mother  is  not  overburdened  with  civility,  and  reminds 
us  from  time  to  time,  "  You  were  never  made  for  a 
housekeeper."  It  looks  like  that  certainly,  but  if  I 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON      591 

could  ever  discover  what  I  was  made  for,  the  matter 
would  wear  a  most  hopeful  aspect. 

You  don't  shock  me  with  your  talk,  for  I  don't 
believe  you.  You  are  peddling  around  ankle-deep  in 
ignorance,  and  think  it  is  clear  sightedness,  and  I 
wish  you  would  stop  talking  as  if  I  were  an  innocent 
Hottentot.  Innocence  and  ignorance  are  very  pretty, 
and  for  some  reasons  very  desirable.  If  one  could 
really  do  nothing  to  repress  wickedness  I  think  one 
would  at  least  be  far  happier  for  not  knowing  that 
wickedness  existed.  But  it  would  be  absurd,  as  well 
as  false,  for  a  woman  of  my  age  to  pretend  not  to 
know  that  the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and 
desperately  wicked. 

I  will  tell  you  something.  Do  you  know  that 

some  time  ago  wrote  an  infamous  article  in  the  "  Con- 
gregationalist."  Then  one  of  my  storms  came  on. 
I  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could,  and  then  I  rose  up  and 

skinned .  Mr.  F.  would  none  of  it,  and  Mrs.  F. 

implored  me  not  to  print  it,  and  said,  or  intimated, 
that  it  would  injure  me  in  the  estimation  of  good 
men.  I  was  prepared  for  the  coarseness  of  bad  men, 
but  I  confess  I  had  not  thought  of  the  good  ones. 
Mud  is  not  becoming  as  a  general  thing,  nor  agreea 
ble,  nor  to  be  desired  as  a  cosmetic,  but  if  I  saw  a 
woman  struggling  in  slime,  and  a  man  in  a  black  coat 
and  white  cravat  thrusting  her  in  deeper,  and  if  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  could  help  her  out  I  should 
plunge  in  and  do  it,  nor  do  I  think  I  should  be  really 
assoiled,  —  for  I  did  not  dabble  in  the  mud  from 
choice,  but  because  it  was  mud,  not  rose-water,  in 
which  a  soul  was  sinking.  What  would  make  me 
forever  to  myself  unclean  would  be  the  thought  that 
through  fear  I  had  withheld  my  hand  when  it  found 


592     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

something  to  do.  But  I  will  hold  the  regard  of  no 
man  or  woman  on  the  tenure  of  a  false  supposition. 
I  will  tell  you  a  bit  of  a  story  about  myself.  I  don't 
profess  to  be  very  good,  —  you  know  I  don't,  — and 
that  is  one  thing  that  troubles  me.  I  never  meant  to 
be  known  personally.  I  never  wanted  to  have  any 
woman  behind  the  writer,  but  it  got  out,  and  I  work  at 
a  disadvantage.  So  when  I  write  about  the  goodness 
and  gentleness,  etc.,  of  women,  it  might  seem  to  be  a 
sort  of  setting  up  of  myself  as  one  of  them,  but  it 
isn't.  I  leave  myself  entirely  out  of  the  account.  I 
am  not  like  women.  My  life  has  been  in  such  manny 
style  that  I  have  manny  ways.  Well,  as  I  was  going 
to  say,  a  long  while  ago  —  I  could  not  have  been 
more  than  seventeen  or  eighteen,  and  in  all  knowl 
edge  of  the  world,  from  simple  lack  of  seeing  the 
world,  I  was  younger  at  seventeen  than  most  girls 
are  at  fifteen  —  I  went  a  journey,  and  was  put  under 
the  care  of  a  man  whose  position  and  office  were 
enough  to  guarantee  his  good  character  —  or  ought 
to  have  been.  He  never  spoke  a  disrespectful  word 
to  me,  nor  showed  anything  but  a  constant  care  for 
my  comfort,  anything  that  I  could  lay  hold  of.  I 
was  to  go  with  him,  and  return  with  him,  but  there 
was  something  about  him,  or  in  him,  so  inmostly  re 
pugnant  to  me  that,  without  saying  any  syllable  to 
any  of  my  friends  there,  I  managed  to  evade  him  on 
my  return.  It  came  so  near  that  at  the  last  go-off 
I  saw  him  come  looking  through  the  train  for  me,  and 
I  held  my  head  down  on  the  seat  before  me,  and 
somehow  disguised  myself  so  that  he  did  not  find 
me,  and  I  came  away  alone.  I  have  never  heard 
anything  in  particular  of  him  since,  till  on  my  journey 
last  fall  I  heard  in  the  most  casual  manner  that  he 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  593 

had  quietly  been  turned  out  of  his  office  and  set  aside 
generally  for  —  I  don't  know  exactly  what,  but  some 
immoralities.  Now  don't  think  me  setting  up  for  im- 
maculateness  or  anything  of  the  sort,  but  I  am  not 
quite  so  bad  as  I  should  have  been  if  after  sensing, 
as  the  old  people  say,  his  character  I  had  worked  him 
a  pair  of  slippers.  I  am  glad,  at  any  rate,  that  my 
instinct  there  was  a  healthy  one.  It  was  no  mani 
festation  to  me,  you  see,  that  repelled  me,  but  only 
the  general  aroma  of  his  character.  He  was  three 
times  at  least  as  old  as  I,  and  I  say  that  if  Myrtle 
had  been  the  girl  the  author  would  have  us  believe 
her,  her  instinct  would  have  told  her  about  the  man 
without  the  clumsy  intervention  of  the  old  Mr.  What's- 
his-name.  His  little  low  transient  surface  attrac 
tions  are  no  more  worthy  of  the  name  of  love  —  no 
not  so  much  as  the  love  of  my  hen  for  her  chickens  ; 
of  a  passion  that  holds  the  soul,  fires  and  fuses  the 
whole  being,  and  gives  a  man  power  over  heaven 
and  earth,  he  is  as  ignorant  as  the  beasts  that  perish, 
and  it  is  an  indignity  to  give  to  his  weak  and  hateful 
emotion  the  holy  names. 

Where  are  my  chickens  gone  to?  Over  to  Allen's 
swamp  where  the  hawk's  young  barbarians  are  all  at 
play,  where  admitted  to  that  equal  sky  their  pap  and 
dough  shall  bear  them  company.  My  hens  beat  yours, 
for  six  of  them  lay  six  eggs  a  day,  if  I  don't  bring 
them  in  every  day.  I  enjoy  your  children,  and  to 
see  you  taking  such  care  of  them  and  wanting  to  do 
so  much  for  them.  You  have  such  opportunity  to  do 
everything  for  them,  to  make  their  life,  as  it  were,  to 
give  them  somebody  on  whom  they  can  always  lean 
and  to  wliom  they  can  always  come.  It  is  the  next 
thing  to  God  in  this  world.  It  is  certainly  God-like, 


594     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN   LETTERS 

giving  everything  and  claiming  nothing.  There  is  no 
use  in  trying  to  adjure  your  life.  You  can  only  take 
what  comes.  The  only  thing  of  importance  is  to  be 
as  good  as  you  can  be.  It  won't  be  anything  to 
boast  of,  after  all,  but  there  is  nothing  else.  My 
hair  I  cut  because  I  wanted  to  do  something,  and 
it  always  amuses  me  to  cut  my  hair.  I  only  cut 
it  about  a  hand  long,  or  a  hand  short,  which  is  it? 
—  or  handsome,  which  is  better  still. 

JUNE  17,  1867. 

Just  as  we  were  sitting  down  to  dinner  the  bell 
rang,  and  Professor  and  Mrs.  Stowc  appeared  at  the 
door.  They  had  ridden  from  Andover  to  Georgetown, 
and  from  G.  here,  and  were  to  go  back  to  G.  to  din 
ner  at  five.  They  stayed  till  near  four  o'clock.  The 
first  half  hour  I  did  not  like  her.  After  she  came  out 
to  her  lunch  she  glowed  up  and  was  very  simple, 
natural,  agreeable,  and  entertaining.  About  half  an 
hour  before  she  went  away  she  gave  out  again  and 
was  silent,  but  I  understood  it  and  did  not  mind.  He 
rallied  her  and  declared  she  had  not  come  up  to  his 
expectations.  She  told  me  coming  out  that  the  fact 
was  she  had  talked  just  as  much  as  she  could,  but  of 
course  as  she  had  come  twenty-five  miles  she  was 
tired.  She  is  plain  at  first  sight,  but  not  after  five 
minutes.  Her  face  is  very  attractive  and  her  smile 
charming  and  sometimes  very  expressive.  When  she 
was  silent  it  said  a  great  deal.  She  said  Professor 
Stowe  was  gone  to  Canada  before  she  got  home  from 
Florida  and  she  had  not  seen  the  critter  since  Febru 
ary.  They  are  not  going  to  sell  their  Hartford  house, 
but  only  going  to  Florida,  winters.  She  says  he  has 
beeu  round  at  a  great  rate  trading  on  female  sensibili- 


BUSY  YP:ARS  IN  HAMILTON          595 

ties  over  going  to  Florida,  and  making  people  think 
he  was  the  most  abused  man  in  the  world.  They  are 
evidently  very  happy  together. 

JULY  9,  1867. 

MY  BEAR  MR.  WOOD  :  I  should  think  it  was  high 
time  for  you  to  leave  Washington  ;  with  typhoid  fever 
taking  on  an  epidemic  form,  and  the  summer  heats 
raging  their  fiercest,  the  sooner  you  get  out  of  reach 
of  both  the  better.  It  is  very  sad  to  think  of  Marcel- 
lus'  happy  young  wife  leaving  her  new  home  and  new 
life  so  soon.  One  feels  that  it  is  unnatural,  that  she 
was  in  some  sort  wrenched  away  from  it,  but  perhaps 
now  she  looks  down  on  us  with  infinitely  greater  pity 
than  we  look  back  on  her. 

Must,  however,  may  be  too  strong  a  word  for 
anything  that  refers  to  self-knowledge  ;  neither  society 
nor  travel,  nor  education  gives  us  that,  perhaps  hardly 
Christianity,  at  least  not  the  infinitesimal  doses  we 
administer  to  ourselves. 

I  have  been  doing  nothing  in  particular  but  a  good 
many  things  in  general  —  watching  seeds  that  never 
come  up,  and  pulling  weeds  that  never  stay  down, 
going  and  coming  and  keeping  the  wheel  in  such 
motion  as  I  can  command,  but  through  all,  I  remem 
ber  that  it  is  summer  and  that  summer  is  little  enough 
time  to  rest,  and  short  to  enjoy,  so  I  take  the  benefit 
of  it  in  every  direction,  and  lounge  and  loll  and  idle 
in  a  way  that  would  terrify  an  energetic  Yankee,  but 
/don't  care. 

[LETTER  No.  2.] 

FRIDAY. 

I  have  brought  my  letter  home  from  the  P.O.  to 
tell  you  that  I  found  there  —  from  what  mysterious 


596     GAIL  HAMILTON'S  LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

source  I  know  not  —  your  letter,  sent  ine  from  Boston, 
and  looking  as  if  the  rats  had  paid  their  respects  to 
it,  and  oh,  my  !  what  a  letter  it  is  when  you  come  to 
read  it  over  in  your  sober  senses  !  You  are  as  brave 
as  Don  Quixote,  but  you  fight  only  windmills.  I 
question  the  good  taste  and  even  the  right  ordinarily 
of  doctoring  hymns.  But  as  for  the  doctrine  and  the 
policy  of  the  two  lines  you  quote  —  "  When  God  him 
self  comes  down  to  die,"  and  "  When  Christ  the  Lord 
comes  down  to  die,"  there  is  no  comparison  to  be 
made.  The  first  is  uuscriptural  and — brusque.  To 
the  best  of  my  belief  and  recollection  it  is  always 
told  us  in  the  Bible  that  Christ  died  on  the  cross.  I 
nowhere  remember  an  assertion  that  God  died  on  the 
cross,  and  such  an  assertion  seems  to  me  harsh  and 
unwarranted.  But  then  I  make  no  pretensions  to 
courage.  Moreover,  it  seems  to  me  little  short  of 
absurd  —  your  connecting  poverty  with  Orthodoxy  — 
yours  or  another's  —  and  wealth  with  heresy.  What 
did  your  Orthodoxy  have  to  do  with  your  fifty  cents 
a  da}'  in  New  York?  And  where,  pray,  do  you  find 
the  people  who  become  pallid  in  the  presence  of  the 
superfine  Boston  Unitarians?  In  your  own  brain 
alone.  I  never  heard  anything  more  ridiculous  and 
baseless  than  this  notion  you  have  got  up  about  rec 
reancy  and  cowardice,  excepting  always  Don  Quixote 
and  the  windmill !  So  far  from  the  question  being 
passed  by,  the  one  question  which  at  this  moment 
more  than  any  other  occupies  the  theological  world 
is  :  "  What  think  ye  of  Christ?  "  1 

So  also  in  your  resolution  of  the  Woman's  Rights 
problem,  you  and  the  printed  slip  wherewithal  you 
buttress  yourself  are  alike  wrong,  and  I  might  ul- 

1  Title  of  a  little  book  by  G.  H.,  then  just  published. 


BUSY  YEARS  IN   HAMILTON  597 

most  say  alike  slanderous,  only  you  do  not  give  me 
the  concrete  premises  from  which  you  draw  your 
conclusions.  So  I  can  realiy  vouch  for  nothing  ex 
cept  th'it  they  are  wholly  and  offensively  wrong.  But 
the  printed  slip  gives  its  premises  outright,  so  I  can 
see  at  a  glance  the  unreason  and  unrighteousness  of 
its  conclusions  ;  and  let  me  tell  you  in  all  seriousness 
that  I  would  ten  thousand  times  rather  stand  with  the 
Boston  women,  with  their  Liberal  Christianity,  Woman 
Suffrage,  and  all,  than  with  the  most  rigid  orthodox 
men,  who  see  in  their  advocacy  of  a  great  cause  only 
the  upholding  of  "  the  free  play  of  the  passional  ten 
dencies  of  men  and  women  unrestrained." 

AUGUST  2. 

We  went  to  Beverly  in  first  train,  and  from  there 
with  S.  and  C.  in  their  carriage  to  West  Beach  to 
field- meeting.  We  enjoyed  the  beach  and  the  drive, 
but  the  weather  was  dull  and  the  meeting  not  bright, 
and  there  were  too  many  people  staring  for  my  pleas 
ure.  The  most  amusing  thing  was  a  stranger  step 
ping  up  to  Stanwood  and  pointing  out  Gail  Hamilton 
to  him. 

HARTFORD,  CONN., 
MONDAY,  August  19,  1867. 

Professor  Stowe  was  at  the  station  to  take  me  home 
in  state.  It  is  a  lovely  place  here  in  the  midst  of  the 
woods,  with  a  river  close  by,  and  little  flower  plats 
all  about,  and  winding  roads — windows  ;ind  doors 
opening  into  the  woods  on  all  sides.  Hartford  grows 
more  and  more  beautiful  every  year.  I  went  to 
church  with  Mrs.  Stowe  in  the  morning.  Professor 
Stowe  was  to  preach,  but  he  was  prevented  by  illness. 


598     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

He  has  not  been  very  well  for  a  week,  Charles  Beecher, 
of  Georgetown,  is  here  and  preached  in  his  place. 
Lilly  Gillette  and  her  husband  came  down  this  morn 
ing  ;  also  the  Hookers,  who  have  invited  us  all  up 
there  this  evening.  Mrs.  Stowe  wants  to  invite 
everybody  here  to-morrow  evening,  but  I  advise 
against  it.  Charley  Stowe  is  home  from  sea,  brown 
and  healthy,  and  a  well-behaved,  bright  young  fellow. 
He  thinks  he  shall  not  go  to  sea  any  more  —  says 
there  is  no  money  to  be  made  by  it,  and  thinks  he 
shall  study.  The  twins  are  at  Stockbridge  with  their 
married  sister,  which  Mrs.  Stowe  regrets.  Mrs. 
Stowe  says  she  thinks  I  should  like  them,  and  that 
they  would  like  me.  My  room  is  on  the  lower  floor, 
with  a  bath-room  opening  out  of  it.  Mr.  Stowe's 
study  is  on  the  top  of  the  house,  like  Hawthorne's,  — 
the  crow's  nest,  Mi's.  Stowe  calls  it.  There  is  a  little 
flower-room,  with  a  fountain,  etc.,  in  the  centre  of 
the  house,  and  the  dining-room,  parlor,  etc.,  open  into 
it.  My  blue  silk  came  out  unspotted.  I  don't  think 
the  rain  got  inside  my  trunk  at  all,  but  there  was  lots 
of  it.  All  along  the  railroad  there  were  drowned 
fields  —  great  trees  standing  up  to  their  knees  in 
water ;  fences  just  visible  above  the  water,  and  the 
tops  of  potato  rows  appearing.  As  things  look  now 
I  ought  to  have  had  ten  new  dresses  instead  of  one, 
and  stay  a  month ;  but  I  shall  go  home  the  first  of 
the  week  anyway,  especially  if  I  am  not  let  alone. 
Mr.  Stowe  said  yesterday  that  if  I  went  to  church 
everybody  would  see  me  and  come,  but  I  saw  very 
few  that  I  know.  Of  course,  my  own  friends  I  want 
to  see,  but  I  don't  want  a  lot  of  people  who  are 
simply  curious. 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  599 

SEPTEMBER  5. 

I  went  to  Gilmanton,  N.H.,  first.  It  rained  be 
fore  I  started,  and  liked  it  so  much  that  it  kept  at  it 
all  that  day,  and  the  next  I  wanted  to  go  to  Canter 
bury  to  see  the  Shakers,  but  the  clouds  shook  so  that 
it  was  impracticable.  Then  I  started  for  Hartford, 
and  had  to  change  cars  every  other  minute  or  so  till 
I  got  into  the  Boston  and  New  York  express  train, 
when  I  gave  over  mutation  and  settled  down  to  rid 
ing,  and  got  carried  off  towards  Albany  for  my  pains. 
Then  I  got  out  at  Westfield,  marked  well  her  bul 
warks,  did  not  like  the  look  of  her  for  Sunday,  went 
back  to  Springfield,  had  to  stay  in  the  station  there 
from  about  eight  till  midnight,  and  then  went  to 
Hartford  to  the  Allyn  House,  and  in  the  morning 
drove  out  in  silken  state  to  Nook  Farm  and  took  Mrs. 
Stowe  to  church  with  me.  Was  not  that  dispatching 
business?  They  live  in  a  lovely  place. 

I  did  not  see  the  Stowe  girls  at  all.  I  saw  their 
portraits  painted,  and  I  saw  the  picture  of  the  long- 
ago-drowned  son,  and  if  there  is  any  truth  in  faces, 
that  is  the  face  of  a  fun-loving,  pure-hearted  boy. 
Charley  Stowe  was  at  home  all  the  time  I  was  there 
—  an  honest,  affectionate,  well-mannered  boy  that 
anybody  might  be  glad  to  be  father  and  mother 
of. 

I  was  a  Nook  Farmer  when  I  used  to  be  in  Hart 
ford,  but  it  grows  more  and  more  lovely  every  year. 
Still,  my  dear,  happiness  does  not  lie  in  fine  houses 
and  trees,  for  Professor  Stowe  has  a  constitutional 
melancholy  which  all  his  fair  surroundings  cannot  re 
move,  and  the  charming  house  —  set  in  its  snuggery 
of  trees,  with  the  river  rippling  close  by,  sung  to  by 
birds,  and  watched  over  by  all  the  guardian  angels  of 


600     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

nature  —  would   be  sold   to-morrow  could  a  fit  pur 
chaser  be  found. 

Well,  then  I  went  to  Meriden  and  stayed  a  day  or 
two,  and  then  back  to  Hartford  to  the  Gillettes, 
original  Nook  Farmers,  and  I  saw  all  my  friends,  or 
a  good  many  of  them,  and  heard  of  one  who  was  in 
Hartford  when  I  was  there,  and  I  was  very  fond  of 
him,  and  he  was  not  hostile  to  me,  and  he  has  left 
Hartford  —  a  few  weeks  ago — with  his  name  tar 
nished  and  his  hopes  broken  ;  nevertheless,  I  believe 
in  him  all  the  same.  Imprudent  and  extravagant  and 
impracticable,  I  dare  say  he  has  been,  for  it  was  like 
him,  but  dishonorable  in  intent  it  is  impossible  he 
should  have  been.  I  have  had  my  hair  cut  short,  and 
such  a  forlorn,  shaven  monkey  you  never  saw.  1 
enjoyed  my  Hartford  episode  much.  It  is  sort  of 
delightful  to  do  things  once  in  a  while.  I  didn't  do 
anything,  only  was  done  to.  Since  I  got  home  I 
have  been  as  busy  as  swarms  of  bees,  and  shall  be, 
I  suppose,  as  long  as  I  live  —  in  health,  at  least. 

[To  HER  SISTER.] 

Professor  Stowe  writes  deploring  Florida  and  the 
association  with  niggers,  alligators,  and  fleas  instead 
of  me  !  but  says  his  identification  with  his  wife  has 
only  increased  his  admiration  and  love  of  her;  and 
when  she  says  her  health  and  happiness  depend  on 
it,  what  can  he  do? 

OCTOBKK,  1867. 

My  lovely  silk  poplin  that  I  have  just  had  made 
over,  short  and  gored,  sack  and  jacket  and  velvet 
trimmings,  I  wore  to  church  yesterday,  and  a  friend 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  (J01 

invited  me  to  drive  home  with  her  and  I  did  not  want 
to,  vet  thought  it  would  be  a  friendly  thing  to  do,  so 
I  did  it,  and  in  consequence  daubed  my  lovely  gored 
blue  short  velvet  silk  poplin  all  over  with  wheel 
grease.  Now  tell  P.,  and  ask  her  if  she  knows  any 
thing  that  is  death  to  wheel  grease  and  innocuous  to 
silk  poplins  gored,  azure,  and  lovely.  You  are 
always  crying  up  P.,  especially  as  executive  and 
efficient.  Now,  anybody  can  execute  butter  and  such 
things,  but  if  she  can  churn  joy  out  of  wheel-grease, 
or  wheel-grease  out  of  poplin,  let  her  now  speak  or 
else  hereafter  forever  hold  your  peace.  My  sister-in- 
law  is  here,  and  has  stuffed  this  house  chuck  full  of 
pickles  and  piccalilli  and  shirley  sauce  and  grape 
preserves  and  peaches  and  things.  They  squeeze  out 
of  every  crack  between  the  boards,  and  to-morrow 
she  is  going  to  make  some  fruit-cake  to  eat  with  them, 
and  the  apples  are  picked,  and  going  out  to  play 
croquet,  we  are,  —  with  clear  consciences,  and  balls 
and  mullets,  of  course.  Dickens  is  coming,  and 
Newburyport  wants  him  for  an  evening,  and  offers, 
through  me,  three  hundred  dollars,  and  we  are  all 
snubbed,  together  with  the  announcement  that  every 
American  evening  will  roll  him  in  from  fifteen  hun 
dred  to  two  thousand  American  notes  for  his  par 
ticular  circulation.  Last  week  my  last  uncle  died,  a 
good  and  beloved  man,  eighty- four  years  old,  who 
had  suffered  for  forty  years  from  an  excruciating 
neuralgia,  —  full  of  humor  and  fun  and  goodness,  — 
and  I  think  Heaven  must  be  perfectly  heavenly  to 
him.  Now,  do  you  suppose  he  has  seen  my  grand 
father,  and  does  my  uncle  who  was  lost  overboard  at 
sea,  in  the  night,  fifty  years  ago,  remember  him  and 
care  for  him?  And  I  wonder  if  my  droll,  witty  aunt, 


602     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN   LETTERS 

who  died  two  years  ago,  met  him  with  some  celestial 
knitting-work  in  her  hand,  and  the}7  are  just  now 
sitting  down  on  some  shady  seat  and  hearing  and 
telling  all  that  has  befallen. 

That  soldier  that  wrote  me  from  Chickamauga,  you 
remember,  did  I  tell  you  he  has  cropped  out  since  he 
found  himself  in  print,  and  has  sent  me  the  books 
which  went  to  the  war  with  him,  and  a  sketch-book 
that  he  drew  of  himself  in  Libby  Prison?  He  is  an 
editor  in  Cleveland  now.  Do  you  know  how  small 
your  faith  is?  Because  W.  has  got  through  the  woods 
with  $1,500  a  year  in  his  pocket  and  offers  to  help  D. 
you  think  God  is  very  good  to  give  us  children,  but 
if  one  were  curious  I  think  one  could  cull  from  past 
letters  of  yours  very  grave  doubts  on  the  subject. 
Just  as  far  as  you  can  see  your  hand  before  you  you 
believe  in  your  hand,  but  if  you  can't  see,  why.  there 
is  an  end  of  all  wisdom  under  the  sun.  You  don't 
seem  to  see  anything  before  you  but  spectacles  and 
roomatiz.  Don't  the  same  things  lie  before  me,  and 
ten  times  worse,  inasmuch  as  I  shall  have  nobody  to 
hunt  up  my  spectacles  for  me,  or  to  make  me  hot 
lemonade  and  red  flannel  bandages  for  my  sorrow  — 
and  isn't  everybody  else  coming  to  the  same  body  of 
death?  For  my  part,  life  astonishes  me  every  day  as 
a  curious  phenomenon.  I  look  back  upon  my  past 
little  self  as  a  bug-man  might  look  upon  a  new  bug, 
and  I  see  the  school-children  go  by  and  it  amazes  me. 
And  I  fancy  how  they  will,  by  and  by,  read  my  name 
on  a  white  marble  slab  with  no  more  conception  that 
I  was  a  human  being  than  if  I  were  the  marble  slab 
itself.  But  as  they  grow  up,  and  grow  old  themselves, 
they  will  gradually  grow  into  the  knowledge  of  me. 
Do  you  know  we  don't  seem  to  be  really  born  the  first 


BUSY   YEARS   IN  HAMILTON  603 

twenty  years  or  so.  We  keep  getting  deeper  and 
deeper  into  life  till  I  reckon  we  plunge  through  on  the 
other  side.  Harriet  Prescott's  baby  was  very  bright 
and  interesting.  How  nonsensically  you  talked  about 
my  busy-ness  —  that  it  was  all  useless  because  I  had 
my  daily  bread  secure  without  it !  Is  that  what  people 
work  for  —  their  daily  bread?  Does  man  live  by 
bread  alone,  I  should  like  to  know?  Is  there  nothing 
to  do  in  the  world  but  to  repair  the  waste  of  tissue  ? 
And  because  one  can  do  but  little  shall  one  take  a 
lazy  hand  to  that? 

You  need  not  trouble  yourself  as  to  whether  there 
are  going  to  be  any  women  folks  among  the  angels. 
Unless  you  change  some  of  your  views  speedily  the 
prospect  is  too  remote  of  its  ever  being  a  personal 
matter  with  you  to  m:ike  it  worth  engaging  your  seri 
ous  attention. 

Your  mother  and  your  brother  are  not  a  fair  speci 
men  of  Heaven,  though  they  are  your  relations.  Sup 
pose,  instead  of  being  eighty,  and  in  Chester,  they  had 
been  just  born  in  Heaven,  one  of  them,  and  the  other 
say  twenty  years  old  there  —  would  not  they  have  had 
enough  to  talk  about,  and  would  not  they  have  been 
full  besides  of  plans  for  the  new  life  —  might  I  mean? 
Why  does  any  one  want  to  make  an  excuse  for  a 
second  marriage  ?  If  the  victim  of  it  is  satisfied  I 
cannot  see  that  it  is  any  one  else's  affair !  That  is 
the  way  with  Bayard  Taylor  and  who  else  was  it?  —  a 
little  while  ago.  I  say  let  it  all  alone.  It  concerns 
only  one  man  and  one  woman.  You  may  say  any 
thing  you  like  of  second  marriages  in  general,  but  of 
any  one  marriage  in  particular  the  public  know  and 
need  know  next  to  nothing,  and  I  don't  suppose  the 
relations  of  this  life  are  to  be  arbitrarily  and  rigidly 


604     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE  IN  LETTERS 

reproduced  or  prolonged  in  Heaven.  But  they  are  to 
be  refined  and  so  renewed.  If  a  woman  has  married 
the  wrong  man  here  I  do  not  believe  she  is  going  to 
be  his  wife  through  all  eternity  unless,  perhaps,  he  has 
really  the  root  of  the  matter  in  him,  and  by  a  course 
of  treatment  turns  out  to  be  the  right  man  after  all. 
Professor  Stowe  says  that  Lady  Byron,  notwithstand 
ing  her  husband's  unspeakable  atrocity  towards  her, 
always  believed  there  was  the  germ  of  good  in  him, 
and  that  he  will  one  day  be  restored  to  her  in  all  his 
ideal  sweetness.  But  if  a  man  and  a  woman  have 
begun  in  this  world  that  good  work  upon  each  other 
which  a  complete  love  cannot  fail  to  do,  do  you  sup 
pose  Death  will  be  suffered  to  cut  it  short  ?  /  don't. 
Like  will  seek  like  there  as  here,  and  hold  it  all  the 
longer  and  stronger. 

My  poplin  followed  your  advice  and  let  the  wheel- 
grease  be  —  but  my  sister  tucked  it  in  out  of  sight,  so 
you  won't  see  it  when  you  come  down,  except  in  the 
suavity  of  my  manners. 

I  am  going  next  Friday,  D.V.,  to  see  the  Confer 
ence  turn  and  rend  and  devour  one  another  over  Mr. 
Charles  Beecher,  a  devout  person,  and  one  that  fears 
God  continually,  so  far  as  I  can  judge.  I  wish  you 
would  be  in  my  Sunday-school  class,  or  I  wish  you 
would  have  a  Sunday-school  class  and  me  in  it. 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

OCTOBER  18,   1867. 

I  will  not  say  that  you  do  not  sometimes  in  your 
letters  offend  my  taste,  but  I  dare  say  you  could  em 
ploy  the  same  negatives  with  regard  to  mine.  In  fact, 
I  suppose  there  are  few  persons  of  positive  taste  and 


BUSY   YEARS   IN   HAMILTON  (J05 

character  who  do  not  occasionally  run  against  each 
other's  positivisms.  But  in  a  world  like  this,  if  we 
cut  off  all  communication  with  those  who  do  not  in 
every  respect  suit  us  our  circle  would  be  exceedingly 
limited. 

"  Wool  Gathering  "  is  of  course  a  good  book,  and 
it  is  well  you  have  read  it,  but  when  you  and  the  saints 
get  into  the  next  world,  I  fancy  you  will  have  some 
thing  better  to  do  than  to  pore  such  books,  even  if 
all  Europe  is  in  them.  I  do  not  have  so  strong  an 
expectation  or  desire  of  going  to  Europe  as  I  used  to 
have,  and  if  I  went  I  fancy  I  should  write  no  book. 
The  associations  would  be  too  overpowering.  By  the 
way,  there  was  a  "  Wool  Gathering  "  on  my  shelf  for 
you.  But  when  it  came  you  had  left  Washington, 
and  when  you  were  here,  it  slipped  out  of  my  brain- 
shelf,  and  so  you  slipped  away  without  it.  Now  it 
has  slipped  into  other  hands,  and  if  you  are  as  disin 
terested  as  you  pretend  to  be  you  will  rejoice  in  your 
loss,  which  proved  to  be  another's  gain. 

DECEMBER  6. 

We  all  agree  that  you  will  never  have  paralysis. 
People  that  have  it  suspect  it  not  beforehand.  "  No 
thing  happens  but  the  unexpected."  Your  heaviness 
was  but  a  mood,  not  lightened,  indeed,  by  thoughts 
on  purgatory ! 

My  brother  and  his  family  are  with  us  from  Min 
nesota  this  winter,  and  the  family  wheels  move  on 
without  armed  intervention  from  me  ;  so  I  take  little 
jaunts  into  space,  having  fortified  myself  previous!}' 
with  a  silk  and  velvet  suit  which  ou^ht  to  answer 

~ 

even  your  ideas  of  magnificence,  and  which  on  a 
more  stately  figure  would  be  magnificent. 


606     GAIL   HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

Salem  has  a  new  history  for  me  since  I  read  Mr. 
Upham's  book  on  witchcraft.  What  a  pretty  hand 
writing  is  that  of  your  Margaret  Dalryrnple !  All 
the  old  chieftains  come  down  from  their  heights  to 
meet  and  greet  this  bonnie  lass  of  theirs,  and  she 
lives  quietly  in  Salem.  We  have  sent  away  our  little 
hand-maiden.  She  was  a  quiet-mannered  puss,  but 
otherwise  unavailable,  very  fond  of  reading  and 
playing,  but  with  a  deeply-rooted  aversion  to  all  man 
ner  of  handicraft,  and  totally  depraved  on  the  subject 
of  thoroughness.  If  you  know  any  philanthropist  who 
would  like  to  adopt  a  heathen  and  turn  her  into  a 
Christian,  and  so  do  good  missionary  work  at  home 
I  can  point  out  to  him  a  tine  field  of  labor. 

Did  I  tell  you  that  I  was  at  the  Conference  which 
undid  its  own  work  two  years  ago  about  Charles 
Beecher?  The  old  stand-bys  were  there  —  Dr.  - 

with  his  gray,  abundant  hair,  and  Elder bald, 

but  stately.  But  nothing  availed,  and  Charles  Beecher 
stands  again  among  the  brethren.  I  am  glad,  because 
he  seems  to  me  too  good  to  be  outcast  from  any  church 
fraternity.  I  think  him  a  good  man,  and  none  the 
less  so  for  being  possibly  a  little  bewildered.  In 
fact,  I  suspect  our  certainty  springs  very  largely  from 
our  want  of  thought  —  from  ignorance  rather  than 
from  knowledge. 

I  heard  Charles  Dickens  read  the  other  night.  It 
is  difficult  to  detach  the  reader  from  the  writer,  but 
both  together  are  absorbing.  My  eyes  ached  all  next 
day  from  the  intensity  of  my  gazing.  I  do  not  think 
his  voice  naturally  particularly  fine,  but  he  uses  it 
with  great  effect.  He  has  wonderful  dramatic  power 
—  a  command  over  his  face  which  recalls  the  old 
stories  of  Garrick.  He  reproduces,  recreates  almost 


BUSY  YEARS  IN  HAMILTON  607 

the  characters  with  whom  his  pen  has  m:ule  you 
familiar.  I  like  him  better  than  any  public  reader  I 
have  ever  before  heard.  He  has  less  mouthing  and 
unuaturaluess.  There  is  much  disappointment  in  this 
vicinity  owing  to  inability  to  hear  him.  I  sometimes 
think  he  will  have  caused  far  more  trouble  than 
pleasure  by  his  visit.  And  on  the  whole,  is  it  not 
yet  a  question  whether  life  is  not  like  Charles  Dickens' 
visit. 

[To  MR.  WOOD.] 

DECEMBER  30,   1867. 

On  Saturday  a  wooden  box  was  dumped  on  our 
piazza,  and  the  wooden  box,  on  urgent  solicitation, 
delivered  up  a  brown-paper  package,  and  the  brown 
package  disclosed  a  leather  case  royally  cushioned 
with  satin  and  velvet  of  imperial  purple  whereon  re 
posed  a  lovely  quartette  of  silver  stuff,  not  untouched 
with  gold.  And  on  each  piece  the  eye  delighted  to 
trace  my  monogram  ;  but  on  one  piece,  more  preten 
tious  than  the  rest,  we  thought  we  discerned  a  G.  W.  T. 
to,  etc.,  or  G.  T.  W.  Certainly  there  is  a  G.  plain, 
and  then  there  is  an  intertwining  which  may  be  a  W. 
alone,  or  a  T.  alone,  but  looks  most  like  a  combina 
tion  of  the  two.  I  will  treat  you  the  next  time  you 
come  here  to  a  cup  of  tea  such  as  never  was  dreamed 
of  from  my  gold  and  silver  store  Whoever  sent  it, 
it  is  the  sweetest  little  thing  you  ever  saw.  Now  we 
are  on  tlie  theme  of  gifts,  I  must  tell  you  that  \\  hit- 
tier  sent  me  his  illustrated  "  Snow  Bound,"  which  is  a 
charming  work  of  art.  In  my  •'  bumble  opinion  "  the 
illustrations  are  far  finer  than  those  of  Maud  Muller 
last  year.  Also  another  friend  sent  me  an  exquisite 
painting  —  a  bouquet  of  wild  flowers,  with  every- 


G08     GAIL  HAMILTON'S   LIFE   IN  LETTERS 

tiling  but  fragrance,  a  delight  to  me  whenever  I  look 
at  them.  A  liltle  enamelled  and  illustrated  needle- 
case  is  a  thing  of  which  you  have  no  conception,  nor 
is  it  necessary  you  shall  have,  nor  of  the  other  little 
trinkets  which  helped  me  to  rejoice  in  the  general 
jubilation.  We  trimmed  our  rooms  with  evergreen, 
and  you  don't  know  how  snug  and  bowery  they  look. 
We  shall  keep  it  on  as  long  as  it  will  keep  green. 
Our  turkey  was  so  glorious  in  his  strength  that  it  has 
taken  us  ever  since  to  eat  him  up,  and  he  is  not  gone 
yet !  See  the  grandeur  of  New  England  poultry  ! 

I  went  to  see  Nelly  O'Couner  at  her  sister's,  and 
saw  her  and  her  sister  and  the  seventeen  little  girls 
that  revolve  around  them,  and  had  an  extremely 
pleasant  visit  for  a  little  while.  Mrs.  O'Connor  is  so 
placidly  young,  and  fresh,  and  lady-like,  that  one 
never  tires  of  her. 

Let  me  tell  you  fairly  that  when  "Woman's 
Wrongs "  are  revealed  to  the  light  of  day  I  don't 
intend  to  send  you  a  copy.  It  is  a  book  which  you 
have  no  call  to  read  and  no  occasion  to  possess,  and 
may  have  a  bad  effect  upon  your  unformed  mind ;  so 
whenever  you  feel  an  impulse  to  read  it,  you  may  sit 
down  to  Thomas  a  Kempis,  or  some  other  safe  work, 
till  the  fit  is  over.  You  may  be  sure  Nelly  and  I 
pulled  you  to  pieces  well  between  us,  and  if  either  of 
your  ears  burned  about  that  time  you  may  know  the 
reason  why. 


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